br 


THE  MBITAHT 

UNIVERSITY  OF  r\r.IFORNTf 

"THE    "" 


THEATRES  OF  PARIS 

THE  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFOHNHr 
LOS  ANGELES 


BY 


J.  BRANDER  MATTHEWS 


WITH  I L LUSTRA  TIONS 


MADRAZO,    CAROLUS    DURAN,    GAUCHEREL,    SARAH   BERNHARDT, 
AND   OTHERS. 


NEW    YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 
743  AND  745  BROADWAY 

1880 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1880 


A 

M.   C.   COQUELIN 

de  la  Comddie-Fran<;aise : 

SOUVENIR   DES   SOIREES    PASSEES   DANS   SA    LOGE. 

J.  B.  M. 


PREFACE. 


GOOD  Americans,  we  are  told,  when  they  die  go 
to  Paris.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  a  many  of  the  few 
bad  ones  who  may  exist  take  time  by  the  forelock, 
and  spend  their  days  and  nights  in  Paris  now, 
alive  and  in  the  flesh.  As  a  guide  to  both  these 
classes  of  my  countrymen  this  little  book  is  in- 
tended. It  is  meant  for  the  reader  who — to  use 
Mr.  Lowell's  apt  phrase — has  travelled  only  at  his 
own  fireside,  as  well  as  for  the  reader  who  is  wont 
often  to  cross  the  water. 

The  title  is  taken  from  a  short  article  on  the 
Theatres  of  Paris,  presented  in  the  Art  Journal 
last  fall.  From  this  article,  as  well  as  from  others 
contributed  to  Scribners,  Lippincotfs,  and  Apple- 
tori  s  Magazines,  and  to  the  Nation,  I  have  not  hes- 
itated to  borrow  freely  now  and  then  whatever 
might  aid  me  in  the  composition  of  the  following 
chapters. 

Special  acknowledgment  should  be  made  of  the 
assistance  derived  from  M.  Charles  Nuitter's  book 


viii  Preface. 

on  "  Le  Nouvel  Opera  "  (Paris,  1875),  and  from  M. 
Francisque  Sarcey's  series  of  histrionic  monographs 
"  Comediens  et  Comediennes"  (Paris,  1876-1880). 
For  the  chapters  on  the  Comedie-Frangaise,  both 
information  and  illustrations  have  been  taken  from 
M.  Sarcey's  invaluable  volumes.  For  the  portrait 
of  M.  Coquelin,  after  Madrazo,  I  am  indebted  to  a 
recent  number  of  the  Molie'riste — an  excellent 
monthly  magazine,  devoted  wholly  to  the  study 
of  the  noble  humorist  who  is  the  glory  of  French 

dramatic  literature. 

J.  B.  M. 

NEW  YORK,  March,  1880. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

CHAPTER  I. — INTRODUCTION i 

"        II. — THE  ACADEMY  OF  Music 17 

III.— THE  NEW  OPERA 39 

"        IV. — THE  OTHER  MUSICAL  THEATRES 60 

V. — THE  COMEDIE-FRANCAISE 71 

"       VI. — THE  ACTRESSES  OF  THE  COMEDIE-FRANCAISE.  89 

"      VII. — THE  ACTORS  OF  THE  COMEDIE-FRANCAISE....  114 

"    VIII.— THE  THEATRE  FRANCAIS 136 

"       IX. — THE  OTHER  COMEDY  THEATRES 154 

X. — THE  THEATRES  OF  DRAMA  AND  SPECTACLE 167 

"       XI. — THE    THEATRES    OF    FARCE    AND    EXTRAVA- 
GANZA    182 

"      XII. — OTHER  PLACES  OF  AMUSEMENT. 190 

"    XIII. — CONCLUSION .  200 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE. 

THE  NEW  OPERA Frontispiece 

THE  AVENUE  DE  L'OPERA 18 

THE  GRAND  STAIRCASE 43 

THE  GRAND   FOYER 47 

THE  RENAISSANCE 67 

COQUELIN  (AFTER  GAUCHEREL) 79 

FEBVRE  (AFTER  GAUCHEREL) 83 

SARAH-BERNHARDT  (AFTER  GAUCHEREL) 93 

SARAH-BERNHARDT  (SKETCHED  BY  HERSELF) 95 

SOPHIE  CROIZETTE   (AFTER  THE   PAINTING  BY  CAROLUS  Du- 

RAN) 103 

MARIA  FAVART  (AFTER  GAUCHEREL) in 

GOT  (AFTER   GAUCHEREL) 117 

DELAUNAY  (AFTER   GAUCHEREL) 125 

MOUNET-SULLY  (AFTER  GAUCHEREL) 1 29 

WORMS  (AFTER    GAUCHEREL) 133 

THE  THEATRE  FRANCAIS 137 

COQUELIN  (AFTER  MADRAZO'S  PAINTING) 145 

THE  ODEON 158 

THE  VAUDEVILLE 161 

THE  PORTE  ST.  MARTIN 169 

THE  CHATELET 179 


THE   THEATRES   OF   PARIS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

IN  the  fulness,  strength,  and  originality  of  its 
dramatic  literature,  France  has  for  fifty  years  stood 
alone  among  the  nations  of  Europe ;  and  in  the 
number  of  its  theatres,  in  the  excellence  of  its  act- 
ors, and  in  the  careful  splendor  of  its  theatrical  per- 
formances, Paris  is  the  first  among  the  cities  of  the 
world. 

The  Parisians  are  essentially  a  theatrical  people ; 
their  talk  and  their  tastes  are  theatrical — and  at 
times  even  their  actions  are  theatrical.  A  new  play 
by  a  well-known  author  is  an  event.  It  is  a  nine 
days'  topic.  It  is  criticised,  written  about  and 
written  against,  abused  and  praised,  seen  and  heard 
by  all  Paris.  Sometimes,  like  the  "  Rabagas  "  of 
M.  Sardou,  it  is  a  political  pamphlet ;  then  it  is  ap- 
plauded and  hissed  at  once ;  the  police  are  always 
present ;  there  may  be  nightly  disturbances ;  and 
there  is  constant  fear  of  a  riot.  Sometimes,  like 
the  "  Femme  de  Claude  "  of  M.  Alexandre  Dumas 


2  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

the  younger,  it  treats  a  social  evil,  attacking  it  with 
a  daring,  unconventional  pen  ;  then  it  is  heard  in 
silence  and  discussed  with  acrimony.  Sometimes, 
like  the  "  Balsamo  "  of  the  two  Dumas,  a  play  ex- 
pected to  cause  a  great  sensation  fails,  and  sinks  at 
once  beneath  the  wave  of  oblivion.  Sometimes  on 
the  eve  of  production  it  is  forbidden  by  the  cen- 
sors ;  then  the  author  immediately  prints  it  for  all 
Paris  to  read,  and  the  censors  are  either  scolded  or 
laughed  at.  The  interdict  laid  on  the  piece  re- 
mains until  the  censors  change  their  minds,  or  the 
nation  changes  its  government.  Permission  being 
finally  given  to  produce  the  play,  the  forbidden 
fruit  is  tasted  by  the  palates  of  the  Parisians,  and 
it  is  generally  found  to  be  over-ripe  ;  for  it  has  been 
kept  too  long. 

This  Parisian  predilection  for  the  theatre  and 
frank  recognition  of  the  importance  of  the  stage 
is  of  no  recent  growth.  The  populace  thronged  to 
the  miracle-plays  of  the  early  brethren ;  Corneille 
was  induced  to  compose  the  "  Cid  "  as  an  attack 
on  Richelieu's  policy ;  the  Cardinal  himself  wrote 
tragedies ;  Moliere  was  sustained  against  the  at- 
tacks of  the  clerical  bigots  by  Louis  XIV. ;  Beau- 
marchais's  "  Barber  of  Seville  "  may  have  hastened 
the  rising  of  the  people;  the  theatres  were  crowded 
during  the  Revolution  ;  and  Napoleon  dated  a  de- 
cree about  the  Theatre  Fran^ais  from  Moscow.  In 
a  work  on  dramatic  art,  published  in  1772,  M. 


Introduction.  3 

de  Cailhava,  one  of  the  dramatists  of  that  day, 
says : 

"  A  new  piece  is  advertised,  all  Paris  flies  there  ; 
the  curtain  rises,  the  actors  appear,  the  friends  of 
the  author  applaud,  the  enemies  of  his  person  or 
his  talent  hawk  or  blow  their  noses.  They  go  to 
supper ;  those  of  the  guests  who  could  not  be  pres- 
ent in  the  theatre,  ask  about  the  success  of  the 
novelty.  'Tis  pitiable,  or  'tis  delicious,  says  a  mer- 
veilleux,  who  in  his  life  never  judged  anything  but 
by  contagion.  From  the  end  of  the  table  a  pretty 
woman  confirms  his  judgment,  only  adding  that  the 
hair  of  the  actress  was  very  badly  dressed."  Tem- 
pera mutantur,  but  might  not  this  paragraph  have 
been  written  in  this  year  of  grace  1880?  It  is  not 
only  in  France,  alas,  that  people  are  prone  to  judge 
by  contagion. 

The  desire  to  be  present  at  the  first  performance 
of  a  new  piece  has  but  deepened  with  the  lapse  of 
years.  Upon  the  announcement  of  the  name  of 
the  play  and  the  date  of  its  birth,  the- author  is  be- 
sieged with  applications  for  seats.  His  relatives, 
his  friends,  his  enemies,  those  who  know  him,  those 
who  do  not  know  him,  even  those  who  have  never 
heard  of  him,  all  signify  their  anxiety  to  be  present 
at  the  first  night  of  his  new  piece.  And,  as  M. 
Dumas  warns  us,  woe  betide  him  if  he  accede  to 
the  requests  thus  made,  if  he  fill  the  house  with  his 
enemies,  his  friends,  or  his  family!  The  piece  will 


4  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

fail !  It  was  not  played  before  the  proper  audience. 
It  was  not  seen  by  the  three  hundred  people  who 
arrogate  to  themselves  the  title  of  "  all  Paris." 
These  men  of  letters  and  men  of  the  world,  these 
strangers,  artists,  and  critics,  these  ladies  of  good 
society  and  bad,  these  bankers  and  do-nothings 
about  town,  do  not  care  whether  the  play  be  good 
or  bad,  whether  it  be  tragedy  or  opera  bouffe — they 
only  want  to  be  present  in  their  proper  places  at 
its  first  performance ;  they  only  want  to  hear  it ; 
they  will  see  whether  it  be  good  or  bad  ;  they  will 
judge  it,  and  their  judgment  will  be  final.  If  this 
"  all  Paris  "  disapprove  of  a  drama  ;  if  it  fail  upon 
its  first  performance  before  this  mixed,  indiscrimi- 
nating,  and  yet  critical  audience — its  doom  is  sealed. 
It  may  be  eulogized  by  the  critics,  but  it  can  never 
hope  to  hold  a  lasting  place  on  the  stage,  and — it 
will  never  make  money  !  Rash  is  the  writer  who, 
afraid  of  this  public  or  ignorant  of  its  power,  seeks 
to  avoid  its  verdict.  His  piece  is  fated.  If  on  its 
first  night  "  all  Paris  "  be  not  present,  and  if  the 
play  does  not  find  favor  in  their  eyes,  it  cannot  be 
good. 

M.  Dumas,  in  a  witty  article  on  first  perform- 
ances in  Paris,  tells  an  anecdote  in  point.  A  Rus- 
sian nobleman,  long  resident  in  France,  and  a  friend 
of  M.  Dumas's,  wrote  a  comedy,  which  was  accepted 
and  produced  at  the  Gymnase  Theatre.  The  au- 
thor, holding  a  high  social  position,  bought  up 


Introduction.  5 

every  seat,  invited  his  titled  friends ;  the  countess, 
the  duchess,  the  baroness  filled  box  and  balcony  ; 
the  Almanack  de  Gotha  crowded  the  theatre.  And 
the  play — a  charming  comedy  not  unworthy  of 
Scribe — fell  flat.  Why  ?  Because,  said  M.  Dumas, 
the  author  knew  how  to  compose  his  piece,  but  not 
how  to  compose  his  house.  Whereupon  the  noble 
Russian  returned  to  St.  Petersburg,  saying  to  M. 
Dumas,  "  Decidedly  it  is  too  difficult  to  be  a  Pari- 
sian ! " 

Before  taking  up  the  theatres  of  the  capital  of 
France,  one  after  another,  let  us  consider  the  phy- 
siognomy of  a  Parisian  playhouse.  The  theatres  of 
Paris  are  very  unlike  those  of  New  York,  but  they 
are  so  like  each  other  that  a  description  of  one  will 
answer  for  nearly  all  the  others.  From  the  pro- 
scenium arch,  broad  enough  to  hold  two  boxes  in 
each  tier,  stretch  three  or  more  semi-oval  or  horse- 
shoe galleries,  built  almost  directly  over  each  other, 
and  not  receding  as  is  the  custom  in  American  thea- 
tres. The  body  of  the  ground  floor  is  filled  with 
orchestra  chairs,  to  which  formerly  ladies  were  not 
admitted.  Now,  however,  except  at  the  Theatre 
Francais,  the  Odeon,  the  Op6ra  Comique,  and  the 
Palais  Royal,  this  Salic  law  has  been  abrogated,  and 
the  fair  sex  may  sit  where  it  likes.  Behind  the 
orchestra  chairs  is  the  pit,  which  extends  back  only 
to  the  first  galleries,  under  which,  on  the  ground 
floor,  is  a  semicircular  tier  of  dark  boxes  called 


6  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

baignoires,  or  bathrooms,  and  the  heat  of  Parisian 
theatres  makes  the  name  not  inappropriate.  The 
first  balcony  as  a  rule  contains  two  or  three  rows  of 
chairs,  backed  by  a  row  of  boxes ;  the  second  tier 
is  generally  all  small  boxes  ;  the  third,  given  up 
entirely  to  benches,  corresponds  to  our  family  circle. 
Sometimes  there  is  a  fourth  gallery,  named  the 
amphitheatre,  and  nicknamed  the  paradise  most 
aptly,  for  it  is  inhabited  by  the  "  gods,"  or  perhaps, 
as  the  younger  M.  Dumas  has  wittily  put  it,  "  be- 
cause they  eat  apples  there." 

Scattered  along  the  boulevards  are  four  or  five 
ticket  offices,  containing  not  a  map  but  a  model  of 
each  theatre,  so  that  the  purchaser  of  a  ticket  can 
see  at  a  glance  his  future  position.  Strange  to  say, 
following  a  short-sighted  custom,  the  price  of  seats, 
if  bought  in  advance  either  at  one  of  these  agencies 
or  at  the  theatre  itself,  is  higher  than  when  the 
doors  are  open.  An  orchestra  chair  at  the  Theatre 
Francais  costs  six  francs  if  purchased  at  the  gate 
just  as  you  enter  the  theatre  at  night,  and  eight  if 
chosen  during  the  day.  At  the  Opera  the  same 
seat  costs  ten  or  twelve  francs. 

These  prices  do  not  differ  greatly  from  those 
which  we  pay  in  America,  but  when  we  allow  for 
the  greater  purchasing  power  of  money  in  Europe, 
we  see  at  once  that  prices  are  decidedly  higher  there 
than  they  are  here.  And  in  all  that  conduces  to 
material  comfort,  the  theatres  of  New  York  are  far 


Introduction.  7 

superior  to  those  of  Paris.  In  fact,  the  playhouses  of 
Paris,  even  the  best  of  them,  are  very  uncomfortable. 
The  seats  are  narrow,  hard,  and  stiff  ;  the  aisles  are 
not  wide,  and  are  frequently  filled  up  with  little 
folding-chairs.  There  is  no  mode  of  rapid  egress 
in  case  of  fire.  There  is  little  or  no  ventilation. 
To  relieve  the  pressure  on  your  legs,  cribbed,  cab- 
ined, and  confined  in  very  close  quarters,  you  can 
hire  a  footstool  from  one  of  the  aged  hags  who  act 
as  ushers.  For  this  boon  you  are  expected  to  pay 
half  a  franc.  If  you  wish  a  bill  of  the  play,  that 
also  must  be  purchased. 

If,  however,  the  Parisian  manager  has  not  shown 
himself  solicitous  for  the  comfort  of  his  customers, 
he  has  at  least  endeavored  in  one  way  to  save  them 
trouble.  The  spectator  in  Paris  is  not  called  on 
to  applaud.  Never  mind  how  much  he  may  be 
pleased  with  the  performance,  he  need  not  rend 
his  gloves  or  make  his  hands  tingle  in  the  effort  to 
express  his  approbation.  He  may  rest  sure  that 
the  salaried  applauders  of  the  theatre,  detailed  for 
regular  service  every  night,  will  do  their  duty,  and 
enliven  the'  evening's  entertainment  with  the  regu- 
lation rounds  of  applause. 

In  the  front  row  of  the  pit,  immediately  behind 
the  orchestra  chairs,  sit  the  claque,  as  the  hirelings 
who  thunder  forth  the  repeated  salvos  are  called, 
marshalled  under  the  eye  of  the  "  contractor  for 
success,"  as  the  chief  of  the  band  grandiloquently 


8  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

styles  himself.  It  is  only  the  chief  and  two  or  three 
picked  hands  who  come  to  the  theatre  every  night ; 
the  rest  are  volunteers  picked  up  each  evening  and 
doing  their  share  of  the  applause  under  the  orders 
of  the  chief,  in  return  for  a  chance  to  see  the  play 
gratis.  A  humble-minded  man,  of  broad  palms  and 
liberal  views,  by  a  little  manceuvring  may  thus 
manage  to  see  every  play  in  Paris  for  nothing. 
One  finds  the  claque  everywhere,  except  of  late 
at  the  Opera  and  the  Theatre  Fran^ais.  At  these 
two  houses  it  was  found  possible  to  dispense  with 
it  during  the  rush  and  excitement  of  the  Exhibition 
of  1878,  and  the  experiment  having  succeeded  then, 
the  hireling  bravos  have  not  yet  returned. 

The  claque  is  autocratic  and  intolerant ;  like  true 
Frenchmen,  the  members  of  it  know  their  own  im- 
portance, and  are  inclined  to  regard  themselves  as 
public  functionaries.  A  characteristic  letter  is  in 
circulation,  written  to  Rachel  by  a  chief  of  the 
claque,  who  had  heard  that  she  was  dissatisfied 
with  the  applause  she  had  received  on  the  second 
performance  of  a  successful  piece:  "  Mademoiselle, 
I  cannot  remain  under  the  obloquy  of  a  reproach 
from  lips  such  as  yours !  The  following  is  an  au- 
thentic statement  of  what  really  took  place  :  At 
the  first  representation  I  led  the  attack  in  person  no 
less  than  thirty-three  times !  We  had  three  accla- 
mations, four  hilarities,  two  thrilling  movements, 
four  renewals  of  applause,  and  two  indefinite  explo- 


Introduction.  9 

sions.  In  fact,  to  such  an  extent  did  we  carry  our 
applause  that  the  occupants  of  the  stalls  were  scan- 
dalized, and  cried  out,  '  Turn  them  out ! '  My  men 
were  positively  overcome  with  fatigue,  and  intimated 
to  me  that  they  could  not  again  go  through  such 
an  evening.  Seeing  such  to  be  the  case,  I  applied 
for  the  manuscript,  and,  after  having  profoundly 
studied  the  piece,  I  was  obliged  to  make  up  my 
mind,  for  the  second  representation,  to  certain  cur- 
tailments in  the  service  of  my  men.  I,  however, 

applied  them  only  to  MM. ;  and,  'if  the 

temporary  office  which  I  hold  affords  me  the  op- 
portunity, I  will  make  them  ample  amends.  In 
such  a  situation  as  that  which  I  have  just  depicted, 
I  have  only  to  request  you  to  believe  firmly  in  my 
profound  admiration  and  respectful  zeal ;  and  I 
venture  to  entreat  you  to  have  some  consideration 
for  the  difficulties  which  environ  me. — I  am,  mad- 
emoiselle," etc. 

The  spirit  of  a  performance  in  Paris  really  does 
in  a  great  measure  depend  on  the  claque.  Having 
had  the  matter  so  long  taken  out  of  their  hands, 
the  people  (except  upon  rare  occasions)  seem  to 
have  forgotten  how  to  applaud.  Now  applause  is 
necessary  to  the  actor.  It  gives  encouragement, 
and,  as  Mrs.  Siddons  said,  "  better  still — breath  !  " 
Hired  approbation  is  better  than  none  at  all.  There 
is  a  curious  anecdote,  at  once  pertinent  to  this,  and 
peculiar  in  its  revelation  of  a  great  artist's  whims. 


io  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

Once  after  playing  one  of  his  best  creations  in  a 
minor  theatre,  Frederick  Lemaitre  was  not  called 
before  the  curtain  after  one  of  his  finest  bursts 
of  passion.  Indignant  and  impudent,  the  actor 
caused  the  curtain  to  be  raised,  and  walking  to  the 
centre  of  the  stage  in  front  of  the  footlights,  he 
asked  if  M.  Jules  was  present.  No  one  answering, 
he  then  demanded  M.  Auguste.  Nor  was  there 
any  response  to  this  either.  "  Gentlemen,"  said 
the  actor,  "  I  have  been  cheated — robbed  !  I  paid 
those  two  fellows  twenty  francs  apiece  to  call  me 
before  the  curtain  to-night ;  and  they  have  not 
done  it." 

Although  Parisian  play -goers  have  seemingly 
abandoned  the  privilege  of  applauding  a  good  per- 
formance, they  have  not  surrendered  the  right  to 
hiss  a  bad  one.  This  right  is  sometimes  exercised 
gently  and  wittily,  as  was  the  case  in  the  last  cen- 
tury when  the  heroine  of  Marmontel's  tragedy  of 
"  Cleopatra "  clasped  upon  her  arm  a  mechanical 
asp  of  cunning  workmanship,  devised  by  Vaucan- 
son,  and  the  venomous  beast  reared  its  head,  and 
before  plunging  its  apparent  fangs  into  the  arm  of 
the  actress,  hissed  shrilly  ;  whereupon  a  spectator 
arose  and  went  out  with  the  simple  remark,  "  I 
agree  with  the  asp."  More  generally  in  our  day 
the  hissing  is  done  vigorously.  In  a  hit  at  the 
times,  called  "  1867,"  produced  at  the  Porte  St. 
Martin,  Mile.  Silly  was  roundly  hissed  for  a  parody 


Introduction.  1 1 

on  her  intimate  enemy -Mile.  Schneider;  and  a  few 
weeks  later  Mile.  Delval,  Mile.  Silly's  statuesque 
sister,  appeared  as  Truth,  robed  only  in  her  inno- 
cence and  a  halo  of  electric  light,  a  clothing  deemed 
inadequate  by  the  audience,  and  so  she  too  was 
hissed.  On  both  these  occasions  the  claque  franti- 
cally applauded,  trying  in  vain  to  hide  the  hisses ; 
and  when  the  police  in  the  theatre  turned  the  hiss- 
ers  out,  the  audience  refused  to  allow  the  play  to 
go  on  until  the  ejected  spectators  were  permitted 
to  return. 

The  French  law,  while  recognizing  the  right  of 
the  paying  spectator  to  express  his  disapproval,  if 
the  goods  he  has  purchased  are  not  what  he  had 
been  led  to  expect,  will  not  allow  any  cabal  or  con- 
spiracy, and  forbids  disturbance  of  any  kind  except 
while  the  curtain  is  up.  So  long  as  the  green  cloth 
shuts  out  the  stage,  all  must  be  decorum.  In  Paris 
the  boisterousness  of  the  Dublin  gallery  boy  could 
never  be  tolerated.  The  Parisians  would  have  been 
amazed  at  an  incident  which  is  told  in  the  history 
of  the  Irish  stage.  When  Sophocles'  tragedy  of 
"  Antigone  "  was  produced  at  the  Theatre  Royal, 
with  Mendelssohn's  music,  the  gallery  gods  were 
greatly  pleased,  and,  according  to  their  custom,  de- 
manded a  sight  of  the  author.  u  Bring  out  Sapher- 
claze,"  they  yelled.  The  manager  explained  that 
Sophocles  had  been  dead  two  thousand  years  and 
more,  and  could  not  well  come.  Thereat  a  small 


12  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

voice  shouted  from  the  gallery,  "  Then  chuck  us  out 
his  mummy." 

Like  almost  everything  in  France,  the  theatres 
are  ruled  by  rigid  laws.  There  is.  a  duly  prescribed 
way  of  building  a  theatre  and  of  isolating  its 
scenery  from  all  chance  of  conflagration.  The 
scene-room  must  never  be  in  a  building  contiguous 
to  the  theatre,  and  so  it  is  no  unusual  sight  in  Paris 
to  see  immense  carts  carrying  the  painted  parlors, 
and  porticos,  and  forests,  and  firesides  of  the  stage 
through  the  streets  from  the  theatre  to  the  scenic 
storehouse  and  back  again,  as  occasion  serves.  A 
detail  of  firemen  and  of  police  is  always  on  duty  at 
the  theatre.  During  the  performance  there  must  be 
present  a  physician,  to  whose  use  a  special  seat  is 
reserved,  known  to  all  the  officials  of  the  theatre. 
Nor  does  the  parental  care  of  the  government  con- 
fine itself  to  the  interior  of  the  house  ;  it  also  pro- 
vides for  the  exterior.  It  even  prescribes  the 
method  of  bill-posting. 

In  their  theory  of  advertising,  the  theatres  of 
Paris,  judged  from  an  American  point  of  view,  are 
miserably  defective.  There  are  no  "  mammoth 
bills  "  to  be  seen  in  Paris  ;  no  "  streamers ; "  no 
"gutter-snipes;"  none  of  the  pictorial  printing 
which  is  the  pride  of  an  enterprising  American 
speculator.  Special  permission  had  to  be  asked  and 
obtained  in  1867  before  the  gorgeous  hues  of  the 
many-colored  posters,  brought  across  the  ocean  by 


Introduction.  13 

the  American  circus,  were  allowed  to  be  displayed 
before  the  wondering  eyes  of  the  Parisian  populace. 
In  the  same  year  Mr.  Sothern  ran  over  to  the  French 
capital  to  show  the  Parisians  the  "  American  Cous- 
in'' (admirably  acted  by  Mr.  John  T.  Raymond), 
and  to  announce  his  coming  he  caused  life-size 
heads  of  Lord  Dundreary,  eyeglass  and  whiskers 
and  all,  to  be  stuck  up  wherever  space  offered ; 
and  the  surprised  Parisians  went  around  asking  one 
another  who  "the  man  with  the  eyeglass"  might 
be? 

Instead  of  all  this — and  even  a  patriotic  Ameri- 
can can  but  acknowledge  that  the  custom  is  more 
quietly  artistic  and  probably  quite  as  effective — the 
bills  of  all  the  theatres,  of  a  given  size  prescribed 
by  law  (about  fifteen  inches  broad  by  thirty  high), 
are  printed  together  and  displayed  on  posts  in  the 
principal  streets  and  boulevards,  as  well  as  on  an 
occasional  dead  wall.  The  announcements  are 
printed  in  black  on  colored  backgrounds,  the  hue 
varying  for  each  theatre,  thus  making  a  curious 
parti-color  effect.  Any  sudden  change  in  the  pro- 
gramme must  be  notified  to  the  public  by  a  white 
band  pasted  across  the  original  advertisement.  No 
theatre  can  post  a  bill  all  white,  as  that  color  is  re- 
served for  the  official  announcements  of  the  state. 

By  these  regulations  the  government  does  no  real 
harm  to  the  theatres ;  it  may  even  benefit  them  in 
so  far  as  it  restricts  the  competition  in  bill-posting, 


14  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

which  is  at  times  wellnigh  ruinous  to  an  American 
manager.  But  the  interference  of  the  government  is 
not  always  so  beneficent.  For  example,  it  takes  one- 
tenth  of  the  gross  receipts  of  every  theatre  in  Paris 
for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  of  the  city.  Again  and 
again  have  the  managers  tried  to  obtain  the  repeal 
of  this  obnoxious  tax,  but  as  yet  in  vain. 

When  the  theatre-goer  in  Paris  enters  the  door 
and  presents  his  ticket,  that  document  is  not 
glanced  at  hastily  by  a  single  gateman,  as  in  New 
York,  but  critically  examined  by  three  grave  offi- 
cials who  consider  it  carefully.  One  of  these  three 
is  the  ticket-taker  of  the  theatre ;  the  second  is  the 
government  envoy,  who  sees  that  a  correct  state- 
ment of  the  gross  receipts  is  made  up,  so  that  the 
poor  may  get  their  tithe ;  and  the  third  is  the  agent 
of  the  Society  of  Dramatic  Authors  and  Composers, 
who  also  verifies  the  gross  receipts,  so  that  the 
author  may  not  be  defrauded  of  any  of  his  dues. 

Space  fails  in  this  little  volume  to  tell  at  length 
of  the  hooks  of  steel  by  which  the  powerful  associ- 
ation of  the  dramatic  authors  has  bound  to  itself 
the  managers  of  France.  The  old  country  manager 
who  liked  to  give  Shakespeare's  plays,  because  the 
author  could  not  "  come  to  the  treasury  asking  for 
money,"  would  be  greatly  displeased  in  France  to 
find  that,  however  old  the  play,  and  however  dead 
the  copyright,  the  agents  of  the  society  would  still 
collect  the  proportionate  fee,  although  in  this  case 


Introduction.  1 5 

only  to  turn  it  over  to  a  charitable  fund  for  the 
relief  of  the  theatrical  poor.  The  dramatist  in 
France  is  paid  a  certain  percentage  of  the  nightly 
receipts  ;  it  may  vary  from  ten  to  fifteen  per  cent. 
according  to  the  importance  and  classification  of  the 
theatre.  When,  as  is  generally  the  case,  there  is 
more  than  one  piece  acted  on  the  same  evening,  the 
authors  divide  their  percentage  of  the  receipts  in 
proportion  to  the  length  of  the  plays  of  each. 

The  Society  of  the  Dramatic  Authors  and  Com- 
posers contains  every  dramatic  author  of  France. 
It  is  therefore  in  effect  a  monopoly ;  and  it  rules 
managers  with  a  rod  of  iron.  It  makes  a  contract 
with  each  manager,  specifying  what  proportion  of 
his  receipts  the  society  shall  take.  If  he  refuse  to 
sign  the  contract,  the  society  forbids  any  of  its 
members  to  allow  any  of  their  plays  to  be  acted  in 
his  theatre.  This  step  practically  closes  his  doors, 
for  he  has  nothing  to  act  except  translations  from 
foreign  languages  —  which  the  Parisian  play-goer 
does  not  care  for — and  old  pieces  on  which  the  copy- 
right has  run  out — which  the  Parisian  play-goer  has 
probably  seen  until  he  is  tired.  So  in  the  end  the 
manager  accepts  the  proffered  contract.  There  is 
then  no  haggling  about  terms.  The  young  author 
never  need  fear  being  beaten  down,  and  the  dra- 
matic veteran  never  can  doubt  the  certainty  of  pay- 
ment. The  society  collects  the  royalty  and  holds 
it,  subject  to  the  author's  order. .  The  manager  dare 


1 6  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

not  attempt  to  pay  even  the  freshest  novice  less 
than  the  percentage  agreed  upon,  and  to  secure  a 
favorite  writer  he  very  often  offers  to  pay  more. 

The  Opera  alone  is  exempt  from  this  payment  of 
a  percentage  of  its  gross  receipts.  It  pays  instead 
a  fixed  sum  of  five  hundred  francs  a  night,  to  be 
divided  between  the  author  and  composer,  what- 
ever may  be  its  receipts. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  ACADEMY   OF   MUSIC. 

IN  the  very  centre  of  modern  Paris,  in  a  broad 
and  ample  space,  cleared  expressly  for  the  more 
abundant  display  of  its  gorgeous  coloring  and  lofty 
proportions,  stands  the  magnificent  monument 
which  France  has  erected  in  its  capital  to  honor 
and  to  house  the  union  of  music  and  the  drama. 
Seen  of  all  men  who  may  pass  through  the  city  by 
the  Seine,  and  situated  in  the  midst  of  what  is 
called  the  American  quarter,  as  though  to  extort 
by  dint  of  boldness  the  admiration  of  all  trans- 
atlantic wanderers,  the  Opera  bears  witness  to  the 
high  esteem  in  which  the  Parisian  people  hold  the 
three  fine  arts  closely  akin  one  to  another — acting 
and  singing  and  dancing. 

Even  the  streets  around  this  temple  of  the  muses 
lend  their  testimony  also  to  show  how  highly  Paris 
appreciates  those  who  have  contributed  in  a  great 
degree  to  its  intellectual  enjoyment,  and  aided  in 
the  attainment  of  the  artistic  preeminence  it  claims 
over  other  cities.  In  other  parts  of  the  city  are  an 
Avenue  Moliere  and  a  "Boulevard  Beaumarchais, 
and  here,  around  the  new  home  of  the  institution 
they  did  so  much  to  lift  above  all  its  rivals,  are 
2  17 


1 8  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

streets  bearing  the  names  of  Meyerbeer,  Halevy, 
Auber,  and  Scribe.  And  from  the  Opera  to  the 
Theatre  Franc_ais,  linking  the  two  great  histrionic 
institutions  of  the  nation,  runs  a  noble  street,  re- 
cently cut,  and  called  the  Avenue  de  1'Opera. 


THE    AVENUE   DE 


As  the  National  Academy  of  Music  —  for  such  is 
the  official  style  and  title  of  the  theatre  which 
every  Parisian  calls  simply  the  Ope"ra  —  is  the  most 
prominent  of  all  places  of  amusement  in  France, 
from  its  ancient  and  honorable  history,  as  well 
as  from  its  sumptuous  and  flamboyant  habita- 
tion, it  is  fit  that  any  description  of  the  theatres 


The  Academy  of  Music.  19 

of  Paris  should  begin  with  some  account  of  what 
was  for  long,  even  if  it  be  no  longer,  the  first  mu- 
sical theatre  of  the  world. 

The  opera  has  always  been  a  royal,  imperial,  or 
national  institution  ;  even  in  these  days  of  heavy 
taxation,  the  republic  allots  it  a  substantial  annual 
subvention  of  nearly  a  million  of  francs.  Accord- 
ing to  Voltaire,  France  owes  her  comedy  and  her 
opera  to  two  cardinals.  The  assertion  is  not  abso- 
lutely accurate,  for  while  Richelieu  was  of  material 
assistance  to  the  earlier  dramatists,  credit  is  due  to 
Mazarin  only  for  suggestion.  The  success  of  a 
company  of  Italian  singers,  imported  by  the  car- 
dinal to  please  Anne  of  Austria,  incited  the  Abbe 
Perrin  to  produce,  in  1659,  the  "  Pastorale  d'Issy," 
with  music  by  Cambert.  Mazarin  was  disposed  to 
encourage  the  new  enterprise,  but  he  died  in  1661, 
and  it  was  not  until  1669  that  Perrin  received  a 
royal  patent  according  him  a  monopoly  of  the 
opera.  This  was  soon  revoked  in  favor  of  Lulli,  a 
wily  little  Italian,  who  is  popularly  believed  to  be 
the  originator  of  French  opera.  Lulli,  at  one  time 
a  scullion,  and  then  the  head  of  a  band  of  vio- 
linists, first  attracted  the  attention  of  the  king  in 
one  of  Moliere's  pieces,  for  which  he  had  composed 
the  music,  and  was  at  last  emboldened,  by  the  aid 
of  Madame  Montespan,  to  open  the  Opera  in  May, 
1672,  with  a. pastoral  into  which  he  had  woven 
his  musical  interludes  from  the  "  Bourgeois  Gentil- 


2O  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

homme  "  and  "  Georges  Dandin."  The  next  year 
Moliere  died,  and  by  royal  command  Lulli  took 
possession  of  the  great  humorist's  more  commodi- 
ous theatre,  thus  ousting  Moliere's  widow  and  her 
fellow-actors,  just  as  he  had  previously  supplanted 
Perrin.  Lulli  was  versatile  and  industrious,  and 
when  he  died,  in  1687,  he  left  behind  him  nineteen 
operas  (not  counting  ballets  and  interludes),  and 
six  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  golden  livres. 

And  whatever  his  personal  failings,  it  can  scarcely 
be  denied  that  he  was  of  great  and  lasting  benefit 
to  the  opera.  To  his  personal  influence  was  due 
the  royal  favor  which  sustained  the  new  enterprise 
in  its  helpless  infancy.  So  much  was  it  petted  by 
the  court  and  patronized  by  the  king,  that  the 
nobility  thought  it  no  disgrace  to  appear  in  person 
and  sing  on  its  stage.  In  royal  letters-patent  of 
the  date  of  1672,  one  may  read  that,  "  We  wish 
and  it  pleases  Us,  that  all  gentlemen  and  damsels  " 
(damoiselles)  "  should  sing  in  the  pieces  and  repre- 
sentations of  our  Royal  Academy  of  Music,  with- 
out its  being  supposed  that  they  detract  from  their 
title  of  nobility,  or  from  their  privileges,  duties, 
rights,  and  immunities." 

To  Lulli  also  is  due  the  development  of  dramatic 
dancing.  Although  the  ballet  had  a  footing  at  the 
Opera  before  his  reign,  there  were  no  female  dan- 
cers, the  women  characters  being  taken  by  boys. 
As  we  all  know,  the  same  custom  obtained  in 


The  Academy  of  Music.  21 

the  English  theatres  in  Shakespeare's  day.  Lulli 
reformed  this  altogether.  In  1681  he  brought  out 
"  The  Triumph  of  Love  "  (a  ballet  which,  at  court, 
had  found  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  king)  at  the 
Opera,  with  four  female  dancers,  the  first  profes- 
sional ballcrine  of  which  we  have  record.  One  of 
these,  Mademoiselle  Lafontaine,  "  a  beautiful  and 
stylish  dancer,"  says  Durey  de  Noinville,  was  so  suc- 
cessful that  she  was  hailed  as  the  "  queen  of  the 
dance." 

During  the  next  hundred  years  there  is  but 
little  of  interest  to  record  in  the  history  of  the 
Opera,  excepting  only  the  often-described  quarrel 
between  the  partisans  of  Gliick  and  of  Piccini. 
But  in  1781  there  occurred  an  instance  of  royal 
generosity  well  worthy  of  record.  The  theatre  in 
the  Palais  Royal,  in  which  the  Opera  had  been  es- 
tablished for  ninety  years,  was  burnt,  and,  under 
the  patronage  of  Marie  Antoinette,  the  architect, 
Lenoir,  by  working  day  and  night,  built  a  new 
opera-house  at  the  Porte  St.  Martin  in  eighty-six 
days.  Rumors  at  once  began  to  circulate  at  court 
that  it  was  unsafe — that  a  building  erected  in  such 
hot  haste  could  not  have  been  properly  constructed. 
The  intimidated  authorities  therefore  decided  that, 
in  order  to  test  the  strength  of  the  new  opera- 
house  before  permitting  the  queen  to  enter  it,  a 
performance  should  be  given  gratis  to  the  people 
of  Paris.  The  beams  having  been  thus  tested  by 


22  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

the  common  herd,  their  majesties  honored  the 
Opera  with  their  presence.  And  the  building  thus 
hastily  erected  long  survives  the  departure  of  the 
Opera  from  within  its  walls,  for,  like  the  line  of 
kings  which  encouraged  its  first  steps,  the  National 
Academy  of  Music  has  been  a  migratory  institu- 
tion, and  has  moved  twelve  times  from  its  founda- 
tion to  the  day  when  it  took  possession  of  its 
thirteenth  home,  the  present  opera-house,  occupied 
by  it  only  within  the  last  half  decade. 

In  1791,  for  the  first  time,  the  names  of  the  sing- 
ers appeared  in  the  bill  of  the  play.  Previously  it 
had  been  understood  that  the  best  singers  appeared 
on  Fridays  only.  Three  years  later,  when  the  Opera 
was  transferred  to  the  building  confiscated  by 
fraud  from  Mile.  Montansier,  the  spectators  in 
the  pit  were  at  last  provided  with  seats.  The  year 
before  this,  under  the  Terror,  on  March  20,  1793, 
Mozart's  "  Marriage  of  Figaro  "  was  performed  for 
the  first  time.  The  vacillating  Louis  XVI.,  after 
absolutely  interdicting  Beaumarchais's  piece,  at 
length  authorized  its  performance,  and  finally  acted 
in  it  himself  with  his  queen.  His  predecessor,  Louis 
XIV.,  had  danced  in  ballets,  and  his  successor, 
Louis  XVIII.,  when  Count  of  Provence,  was  the 
anonymous  author  of  more  than  one  opera  libretto, 
notably  of  the  "  Caravan  of  Cairo,"  set  by  Gretry. 

This  composer  did  not  long  retain  his  royalist 
tastes.  During  the  troublous  times  of  '93  and 


The  Academy  of  Music.  23 

the  succeeding  years  of  the  republic  over  two 
thousand  revolutionary  dramas  were  written  ;  more 
than  half  of  them  were  acted,  and  the  stage  of 
the  National  Academy  of  Music  did  not  fail  to 
have  its  share ;  and  in  the  archives  stored  away 
in  the  capacious  galleries  of  the  new  building 
are  the  scores  of  many  revolutionary  operas  by 
Gretry,  Mehul,  and  Rouget  de  1'Isle,  in  which  the 
representatives  of  the  people — municipal  officers 
girt  with  their  tricolored  scarfs,  or  sans-culottes 
curates — replace  the  gods  of  Olympus  as  the  dei 
ex  mac  hind.  In  these  curious  works  we  find  the 
new-born  Goddess  of  Reason  dancing  the  Car- 
magnole, or  singing  the  £a  Ira,  a  revolutionary 
song  of  particular  interest  to  Americans,  for  it  was 
suggested  by  a  remark  of  Franklin's.  The  Goddess 
of  Reason  was  the  wife  of  the  bookseller  Momoro. 
The  Goddess  of  Liberty  was  the  beautiful  Mile. 
Maillard  of  the  Opera,  who  had  so  often  played  the 
part  in  the  "  Offering  to  Liberty,"  that  at  last  it 
became  incarnated  in  her.  The  people,  giving  a 
local  habitation  to  their  ideal,  no  longer  distin- 
guished the  actress  from  the  goddess.  In  spite  of 
her  unconcealed  royalist  sympathies,  she  was  con- 
strained to  personate  Liberty  in  all  the  civic  cele- 
brations, and  even  to  be  adored  in  the  "  Temple 
of  Reason  "  (formerly  Notre  Dame),  together  with 
Mme.  Ducamp  and  Mile.  Florigny,  also  of  the 
Opera,  as  Equality  and  Fraternity. 


24  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

This  "  Offrande  a  la  Liberte "  and  a  kindred 
piece,  "  La  Rosiere  Republicaine,"  were  the  two 
great  successes  of  a  new  school  of  high-flown  and 
hybrid  ballet-operas,  half  dancing  and  half  singing. 
Other  and  more  regular  ballets  fared  badly ;  revolu- 
tions are  bad  times  for  the  fine  arts.  Three  times 
was  the  money  appropriated  for  a  patriotic  ballet 
composed  by  Gardel  on  so  revolutionary  a  subject 
as  "William  Tell,"  and  three  times  was  the  money 
stolen  before  it  could  reach  the  composer.  It  was 
only  clap-trap  and  blood-and-thunder  pieces,  full  of 
sound  and  fury  and  signifying  nothing,  which  could 
hope  for  a  hearing  on  the  stage  of  the  Opera.  And 
of  these  there  was  no  lack.  The  National  Academy 
of  Music  turned  itself  into  the  illustrated  supple- 
ment of  the  daily  newspaper,  reflecting  the  lurid 
glare  of  the  "  latest  from  the  seat  of  war." 

Battle  after  battle  was  repeated  on  the  stage  of 
the  Opera,  after  the  news  of  the  reality  had  come 
from  the  borders  of  France.  The  rapidly-succeed- 
ing events  of  the  last  ten  years  of  the  century  were 
often  mirrored  behind  the  curtain  of  the  Opera. 
In  this  a  precedent  was  followed.  Twenty  years 
before,  the  Opera  had  brought  out  "  Mirza,"  a  bal- 
let in  three  acts,  setting  on  the  stage  the  events  of 
the  American  Revolution,  in  which  the  soldiers  of 
France  were  then  fighting  side  by  side  with  the 
Continentals  of  these  colonies.  Let  us  imagine,  if 
haply  we  can,  the  figure  cut  by  the  dignified  Wash- 


The  Academy  of  Music.  25 

ington  and  "  Grandison-Cromwell "  Lafayette  as 
they  pirouetted  in  a  minuet  with  grave  reserve !  A 
few  years  later,  America  again  appears  on  the  stage 
of  the  Opera  in  <;  L'Embarras  de  Richesses,"  a  ballet 
by  Gretry,  in  which  the  four  quarters  of  the  world 
were  seen — America  dancing  "a  minuet  of  the 
time  of  Pericles." 

During  the  whole  Revolution  the  stage  of  the 
Opera  was  prompt  to  set  forth  the  shifting  scenes 
of  blood  and  iron ;  and  every  victory  over  the  for- 
eign foe  was  at  once  set  to  music  and  represented 
before  the  footlights.  Indeed  the  Opera  had  a 
direct  connection  with  the  first  great  event  of  the 
Revolution :  its  property-room  had  been  sacked  of 
its  sabres  to  assist  in  arming  the  populace  for  the 
assault  on  the  Bastile.  It  was,  perhaps,  in  return  for 
this  timely  loan  that,  upon  the  spoliation  of  the 
churches,  the  Opera  was  presented  with  a  chime 
of  bells,  unfortunately  destroyed  in  the  fire  of  1873. 
M.  Nuitter  mentions  a  tradition,  impossible  to  ver- 
ify, that  one  of  these  bells  came  from  the  Church 
of  St.  Germain  1'Auxerrois,  and  after  having  been 
used  to  give  the  signal  for  the  real  massacre  of  St. 
Bartholomew,  it  had  again  tolled  the  alarm  dur- 
ing the  five  hundred  performances  of  Meyerbeer's 
''  Huguenots." 

But  the  downfall  of  the  monarchy  and  the  subse- 
quent anarchy  had  its  influence  on  the  box-office  of 
the  National  Academy  of  Music  as  well  as  on  its 


26  The  Theatres  of  Parts. 

stage.  Like  everything  else,  the  Opera  felt  the 
beneficent  effect  of  paper  money  issued  by  the  peo- 
ple for  the  people.  With  the  unlimited  putting 
forth  of  assignats,  the  price  of  tickets  was  rapidly 
raised,  until  a  seat  in  the  boxes  cost  9,000  livres. 
The  1 8th  Prairial,  Year  IV.,  the  receipts  of  the 
Opera  were  1,071,350  livres!  The  real  value  of 
this  million  of  livres  was  a  little  over  two  hundred 
dollars. 

Under  the  Empire  and  the  Restoration  the 
Opera  prospered.  In  1822  it  spent  188,260  francs 
upon  the  mounting  of  one  piece,  u  Aladdin,  or 
the  Marvellous  Lamp."  In  February,  1820,  as  the 
Duke  of  Berri  was  handing  his  wife  into  her  car- 
riage, he  was  assassinated.  In  consequence,  the 
Government  razed  the  building  and  gave  the 
ground  to  the  public  as  the  Place  Louvois.  A 
temporary  home  was  found  for  the  National  Acad- 
emy of  Music  in  the  Rue  Lepeletier,  and  there  it 
remained  for  more  than  fifty  years,  until  the  night 
of  October  28,  1873,  when  the  building  caught  fire. 
Within  a  few  hours  it  was  burnt  to  the  ground.  As 
M.  de  la  Salle,  the  author  of  an  ample  and  amusing 
history  of  "Les  Treize  Salles  de  1'Opera,"  walked 
home  from  the  fire,  he  saw  by  the  early  dawn  the 
wet  and  just  posted  bill  of  the  Opera  announcing 
the  "one-hundredth  performance  of  'Hamlet 'for 
this  evening  at  7  1-2  o'clock." 

The  half  century  which  the  National  Academy  of 


The  Academy  of  Music.  27 

Music  passed  in  the  theatre  built  for  it  in  the  Rue 
Lepeletier  was  the  most  glorious  period  of  its  ex- 
istence. The  French  people  are  very  proud  of  their 
chief  musical  theatre,  and  it  is  in  the  history  of 
these  fifty-two  years — from  August,  1821,  when  the 
opera-house,  on  which  work  had  been  begun  as 
soon  as  the  Duke  of  Berri  died,  was  first  thrown  open 
to  the  public,  to  the  dismal  day  in  October,  1873, 
when  it  was  wholly  destroyed  by  fire — it  is  in  the 
history  of  these  years  that  there  is  most  to  be 
proud  of.  The  house  proved  to  have  remarkable 
acoustic  qualities,  and  it  was  the  first  of  all  the 
Parisian  playhouses  to  be  lighted  by  gas.  To  these 
physical  advantages  an  artistic  superiority  over 
almost  every  other  musical  theatre  in  Europe  was 
soon  added. 

For  two  score  of  years  the  history  of  the  French 
Academy  of  Music — by  turns  Royal,  National,  and 
Imperial — was  in  a  great  measure  the  history  of 
opera  itself.  Half  of  the  operas  composed  during 
this  period,  and  retaining  the  stage  to-day,  were 
written  especially  for  the  Paris  Opera.  After  Lulli, 
Rameau,  Gliick,  Sacchini,  and  Spontini,  who  had 
rendered  its  stage  illustrious  in  the  past,  there  soon 
came  forward  Rossini  and  Meyerbeer,  who  were  to 
make  it  even  more  famous  in  the  present.  But  a 
little  behind  these  two  great  musicians  came  Auber 
and  Halevy,  who  gave  to  the  Opera  some  of  their 
best  work. 


28  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

As  may  be  seen  by  a  glance  down  this  list  of 
names,  the  French  Academy  of  Music  has  always 
been  hospitable  to  foreigners.  Owing  its  solid 
foundation  to  an  Italian,  Lulli,  it  has  extended  an 
open  welcome  to  the  German  Gliick  and  Meyerbeer, 
as  well  as  to  the  Italian  Piccini,  Spontini,  and  Ros- 
sini, while  at  the  same  time  offering  a  broad  stage 
to  the  native  Rameau,  Gretry,  Halevy,  and  Auber. 
It  was  perhaps  to  this  very  cosmopolitanism, 
this  freedom  from  the  narrowness  of  nationality, 
which  only  too  often  tends  to  degenerate  into  the 
groove  of  petty  provincialism,  that  the  Opera  owed 
its  broad  and  vigorous  vitality.  The  Paris  Opera 
built  itself  up  by  attracting  to  it  the  rising  musical 
geniuses  of  Europe,  be  they  French,  or  Italian,  or 
German,  and  by  attaching  them  to  it  by  liberal 
treatment.  The  capital  of  France  is  one  of  the 
cities  of  the  world  in  which  the  foreigner,  in  the 
end,  feels  most  at  home.  Rossini  and  Meyerbeer 
became  pure  Parisians,  in  spite  of  their  accident 
of  birth. 

And  herein  the  Paris  of  our  time  is  wiser  than  the 
Rome  of  old ;  invaded  alike  by  the  barbarians  at- 
tracted by  their  riches  and  promise,  Paris  has  been 
able  to  assimilate  matter  which  in  Rome  remained 
barbarian  to  the  end.  Paris  not  only  drew  to  itself 
and  made  like  unto  itself  the  outsider,  but  it  made 
the  best  of  him.  Nowhere  is  this  fact  more  obvious 
than  in  the  history  of  the  French  musical  drama. 


The  Academy  of  Music,  29 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  by  far  the  larger  part 
of  the  fame  of  the  Opera  is  due  to  the  works  there 
produced  by  foreigners.  In  the  very  half  century 
now  to  be  considered,  the  French  Halevy  and  Au- 
ber  did  not  shed  so  much  lustre  on  its  stage  as 
the  German  Meyerbeer  or  the  Italian  Rossini.  Of 
course  the  credit  of  the  success  is  still  due  to  the 
French  themselves  ;  the  great  foreigners  would  not 
have  come  to  France  if  it  had  not  been  made  worth 
their  while.  The  pecuniary  inducements  were  con- 
siderable, but  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  artistic 
temptations  were  not  even  more  powerful.  The 
composer  could  be  sure  that  there  would  be  no 
stinted  attempt  to  realize  his  ideal ;  he  could  rely 
on  lavish  and  elaborate  mounting  and  scenery ;  he 
could  count  on  all  the  resources  of  a  musical  organ- 
ization second  to  none  then  in  existence ;  he  could 
certainly  have  at  his  call  a  picked  company  of 
singers  trained  in  the  best  schools  and  unusually 
strong  in  dramatic  ability ;  and  above  all,  and  per- 
haps more  important  than  the  other  considerations 
in  the  eyes  of  a  composer  seeking  to  do  work  which 
might  survive  him,  he  could  confidently  expect  a 
good  libretto. 

The  French  are  a  nation  of  playwrights,  and  in 
no  department  of  dramatic  literature  is  their  skill 
more  evident  than  in  the  making  of  opera  books. 
And  how  important  the  book  is,  no  one  who  has 
ever  read  the  biography  of  a  composer  needs  to  be 


30  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

told.  A  bad  libretto  has  killed  more  than  one 
score  which  otherwise  might  have  had  a  fair  chance 
of  life  ;  and  even  where  its  defects  have  not  been 
fatal  ;  even  where,  as  in  the  case  of  the  "  Magic 
Flute,"  the  exceeding  beauty  and  strength  of  the 
music  has  been  strong  enough  to  bear  up  beneath 
the  exceeding  feebleness  and  folly  of  the  book, 
the  struggle  has  been  a  hard  one.  In  all  its  history 
the  Opera  has  been  fortunate  in  its  librettos,  from 
the  early  days  of  Quinault  and  the  younger  Cor- 
neille  to  the  comparatively  recent  productions  of 
Scribe.  Of  course  a  poor  libretto  has  caused  the 
failure  of  good  music  at  the  Opera  as  well  as  else- 
where, but  the  average  of  success  has  been  surpris- 
ingly high. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  even  the  successful 
books  were  all  of  them  wholly  exempt  from  the  pe- 
culiarities, not  to  say  impossibilities,  which  are  only 
too  frequent  in  librettos  ;  they  had  their  full  share 
of  absurdities,  but  they  answered  their  purpose. 
Scribe's  librettos,  for  example,  are  models  of  what 
an  opera  book  should  be.  Dramatic  in  plot,  fertile 
in  situation,  lending  themselves  readily  to  scenic 
display,  providing  for  the  proper  introduction  of 
choruses  and  processions,  telling  a  story  simple  in 
itself  and  capable  of  being  shown  almost  wholly  in 
action,  cut — to  use  the  French  phrase-^so  as  to 
show  the  musician  to  best  advantage,  they  are  ad- 
mirably adapted  to  the  end  in  view.  Scribe's  col- 


The  Academy  of  Music.  31 

laborators  and  competitors,  having  so  fine  a  model 
before  their  eyes,  did  work  nearly  as  good.  In  con- 
sidering the  use  of  the  modern  grand  opera,  the  ser- 
vices of  Scribe  are  not  to  be  passed  over  slightingly. 
It  is  to  his  influence,  in  a  measure  at  least,  and  to 
his  keen  eye  for  the  capabilities  of  the  modern 
stage,  that  we  owe  the  pre-Wagnerian  opera ;  and 
it  may  be  questioned  whether — if  taking  Wagner 
as  a  writer  of  opera  books  merely — whether  he  did 
not  begin  where  Scribe  left  off.  All  the  mechani- 
cal marvels  which  were  exhibited  to  the  throng  of 
worshippers  which  gathered  in  the  theatre  at  Bay- 
reuth  were  but  the  development  of  suggestions  to 
be  seen  in  the  librettos  of  Scribe. 

When  the  Academy  of  Music,  in  1821,  moved 
into  the  new  opera-house  in  the  Rue  Lepeletier,  its 
musical  organization  was  far  from  perfect.  It  was 
deficient  in  singers,  and  for  some  time  its  great  re- 
liance had  been  on  the  ballet.  Under  the  ener- 
vating influence  of  the  Empire,  French  music  had 
wellnigh  fallen  into  a  state  of  nullity.  So  low  was 
it  that  two  composers  were  coupled  to  set  one  weak 
libretto;  at  times  even  three  collaborated.  In  1821, 
for  instance,  Cherubini  was  linked  with  Berton  in 
making  the  music  of  a  now  forgotten  "  Blanche 
de  Provence;"  and  in  1825  Berton,  Kreutzer,  and 
Boieldieu  joined  together  to  compose  an  equally 
dead  and  gone  "  Pharamond."  But  in  1824,  Ros- 
sini, fresh  from  the  successes  won  in  Italy  with  the 


32  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

"  Barber  of  Seville,"  "Othello,"  and  "  Semiramis," 
arrived  in  Paris  from  London,  where  he  had  just" 
made  £7,000  in  five  months.  Appointed  general 
inspector  of  singing  at  the  Academy  of  Music,  he 
first  strengthened  the  company  of  vocalists  and 
then  taught  them  how  to  sing  as  he  wished  them. 
A  year  later  he  brought  out  his  first  French  opera, 
the  "  Siege  of  Corinth,"  much  of  the  music  of  which 
had  already  served  him  in  Italy  in  a  "  Mahomet." 

He  made  two  other  similar  rearrangements  of 
his  pre-existing  music,  and  then,  on  the  3d  of 
August,  1829,  he  brought  out  the  first  grand  opera, 
which  he  had  written  expressly  for  the  Opera,  and 
which  must  be  considered  as  the  first  grand  opera 
of  a  new  school,  neither  Italian  nor  German,  but  to 
be  called  French,  for  want  of  a  better  name.  This 
opera  was  "  William  Tell."  After  making  this  mas- 
terpiece Rossini  laid  down  his  pen  ;  either  he  felt 
that  he  could  not  surpass  it,  or,  having  once  shown 
what  he  was  capable  of,  his  natural  and  national  lazi- 
ness seized  on  him,  so  that  he  had  no  desire  to  make 
another  attempt.  Be  the  reason  what  it  may,  the 
first  grand  opera  written  by  Rossini  in  French  re- 
mained the  last  he  wrote  at  all. 

M.  Alphonse  Royer,  the  author  of  the  libretto  of 
the  "  Favorite,"  and  for  a  time  the  manager  of  the 
Academy  of  Music,  in  a  history  of  the  Opera  which 
he  published  in  1875,  suggested  that  the  revolution 
of  1830  was  the  indirect  cause  of  Rossini's  retire- 


The  Academy  of  Music.  33 

ment.  Louis  Philippe  was  a  saving  and  economical 
king.  As  soon  as  he  was  firmly  on  the  throne  he 
reformed  his  civil  list.  The  Opera  as  a  royal  insti- 
tution had  been  closely  connected  with  the  royal 
household,  and,  relying  on  the  royal  purse,  an 
agreement  had  been  made  with  Rossini,  whereby, 
in  consideration  of  an  annuity  of  six  thousand  francs 
and  a  premium  of  fifteen  thousand  more  on  the 
delivery  of  each  score,  the  composer  was  to  bring 
out  five  new  operas  in  the  next  ten  years.  The 
new  officials  refused  to  recognize  this  annuity.  AS 
M.  Royer  sharply  puts  it,  "  they  went  to  law  for  five 
years  to  economize  the  six  thousand  francs,  and  not 
to  have  Rossini's  five  new  operas.  In  the  end  they 
did  not  have  them — a  great  triumph !  But  they 
had  to  pay  the  pension  !  " 

Another  reason  for  Rossini's  seemingly  premature 
withdrawal  is  also  given  by  M.  Royer.  It  was  the 
grand  chorus  of  admiration  which  had  greeted  the 
production  of  "  Robert  the  Devil."  Rossini  could 
not  brook  a  brother  near  the  throne,  not  even 
one  whose  early  steps  he  himself  had  guided.  It 
was  Rossini,  the  manager  of  the  Italian  theatre, 
who  had  brought  out  three  of  Meyerbeer's  ear- 
liest operas.  "  Robert  the  Devil "  was  originally 
a  comic  opera — that  is  to  say,  the  dialogue  was 
spoken,  and  there  were  no  recitatives — but  seeing 
a  chance  at  the  Opera,  Scribe  and  Delavigne  has- 
tily rhymed  their  prose,  and  Meyerbeer  improvised 
3 


34  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

the  needed  music;  and  on  the  2 1st  of  Novem- 
ber, 1831,  "Robert  the  Devil"  took  Paris  by 
storm.  In  February,  1836,  came  the  "  Hugue- 
nots;"  and  thirteen  years  later,  in  April,  1849,  the 
"  Prophet  "  followed.  These  were  the  only  three 
grand  operas  written  for  the  Opera  which  Meyer- 
beer lived  to  see  acted.  A  fourth,  the  "  Africaine," 
was  brought  out  in  April,  1865,  after  his  death. 

While  Rossini  and  Meyerbeer  are  the  two  great- 
est names  of  the  past  seventy-five  years  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Opera,  they  are  not  the  only  great 
names.  In  1828  was  first  produced  the  "  Muette 
de  Portici,"  known  to  us  as  "  Masaniello,"  and  rec- 
ognized everywhere  as  one  of  the  best  and  brightest 
of  Auber's  works.  Another  Frenchman,  Halevy,  not 
long  after  composed  the  "Jewess,"  the  one  opera 
by  which  he  is  known  to  opera-goers  outside  of 
Paris.  In  1840  Donizetti  saw  his  "Favorite"  pro- 
duced at  the  Opera,  with  a  success  which  endures 
to  this  day.  Among  the  singers  whose  efforts  aided 
in  putting  the  Opera  in  the  front  rank  of  all  Eu- 
ropean opera-houses,  and  whose  skill  and  natural 
gifts  were  at  the  command  of  the  composers  I  have 
named,  were  Adolph  Nourrit,  Levasseur,  Mme. 
Cinti-Damoreau,  Mme.  Falcon,  Mme.  Stolz,  Mme. 
Alboni,  Duprez,  and  Roger.  In  the  ballet  were 
Marie  Taglioni,  Fanny  Elssler,  and  Carlotta  Grisi. 

In  later  days  these  great  singers  have  been  fol- 
lowed by  others  better  known  to  contemporary 


The  Academy  of  Music.  35 

opera-goers — M.  Faure,  Mme.  Sasse,  Mme.  Nilsson, 
Mme.  Adelina  Patti,  Mme.  Carvalho.  And  the 
more  recent  operas — at  least  those  of  them  which 
have  been  successful,  the  fate  of  barely  a  third  of 
those  produced — are  equally  familiar  in  the  ears 
of  all.  In  1861  an  adaptation  of  Herr  Wagner's 
"Tannhauser"  was  brought  out.  M.  Royer  notes 
that  the  first  performance  took  place  on  a  thirteenth 
— the  thirteenth  of  March.  Perhaps  the  unlucky 
date  was  the  cause  of  its  summary  damning ;  per- 
haps its  untimely  taking  off  was  due  to  the  organ- 
ized hostility  of  the  Jockey  Club,  disgusted  that 
there  was  no  ballet  in  the  middle  of  the  opera  as 
was  the  custom ;  perhaps  there  was  some  other 
equally  potent  influence  at  work  against  the  ill- 
starred  opera — at  all  events,  after  three  perform- 
ances, all  alike  stormy  and  tumultuous,  it  was  with- 
drawn. 

Evidence  is  not  now  wanting  that  the  more  cool 
and  collected  portion  of  the  French  public  is  be- 
ginning to  regret  the  violence  exhibited  when  the 
opera  was  produced.  In  the  exhaustive  catalogue 
of  the  library  of  the  Opera  prepared  by  M.  Lajarte, 
the  musical  librarian,  only  completed  in  1878,  a 
chronological  list  is  given  of  all  the  musical  works 
produced  or  performed  at  the  Academy  of  Music, 
and  from  the  note  appended  to  the  "  Tannhauser" 
it  seems  that  the  extreme  distaste  for  the  Teutonic 
music  is  disappearing.  "  We  ought  to  confess," 


36  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

says  M.  Lajarte,  "  that  his  score  contains  beauties 
of  the  first  rank  in  the  midst  of  ridiculous  inani- 
ties. The  summary  justice  inflicted  on  it  by  the 
Parisian  public  is,  consequently,  a  fault  we  shall  not 
try  to  excuse." 

From  the  seventh  part  of  this  invaluable  cata- 
logue, covering  the  time  from  the  first  performance 
of  the  "Prophet,"  in  1849,  to  tne  middle  of  1876, 
many  interesting  details  may  be  gleaned.  In  it  we 
are  reminded  that  M.  Emile  Augier  once  wrote  an 
opera  libretto,  "Sappho,"  for  which  M.  Gounod 
composed  the  music,  and  it  was  a  failure ;  we  note 
that  M.  Offenbach,  in  1860,  wrote  the  music  of  a 
ballet,  the  "  Butterfly,"  for  which  the  celebrated 
dancer,  Marie  Taglioni,  composed  the  dancing,  and 
it  too  was  a  failure.  Apropos  of  ballets,  it  is  with 
some  surprise  that  the  name  of  Theophile  Gautier 
is  seen  so  often  as  the  author  of  ballet  librettos ; 
his  beautiful  "  Giselle,"  for  which  Adolphe  Adam 
composed  the  music,  is  an  excellent  example  of  the 
skill  with  which,  catching  at  a  suggestion  of  Hoff- 
mann's, he  could  put  a  fanciful  and  fantastic  sub- 
ject on  the  stage.  Among  the  opera  librettists  the 
name  of  M.  Got,  the  great  comedian  of  the  Come- 
die  Fran^aise,  is  twice  to  be  found. 

Besides  these  merely  curious  gleanings,  we  are 
told  of  the  more  important  and  longer-lived  works 
which  the  Opera  has  of  late  years  produced.  It 
was  for  the  Academy  of  Music  that  M.  Ambroise 


The  Academy  of  Music.  37 

Thomas  wrote  his  "  Hamlet,"  acted  with  most  ex- 
traordinary effect  by  M.  Faure  and  Mme.  Nilsson. 
It  was  to  the  Academy  that  M.  Gounod  saw  his 
"  Faust "  transferred  after  it  had  made  its  mark  at 
the  now  no  longer  existing  Theatre  Lyrique.  It 
was  for  the  Academy  of  Music  that  Signer  Verdi, 
in  1867,  wrote  his  "Don  Carlos."  It  was  at  the 
Academy  of  Music  that  the  lovely  ballet  of  oriental 
fantasy,  the  "  Source,"  of  M.  Leo  Delibes,  danced 
into  fame  and  fortune.  And  with  this  list  closes 
the  account  of  the  half  century  which  the  Opera 
spent  in  the  Rue  Lepeletier.  With  the  burning  of 
that  theatre  in  1873,  and  the  transfer  of  the  Acad- 
emy of  Music  (after  an  interval)  to  the  new  and 
unequalled  theatre  which  M.  Gamier  had  erected 
for  it,  begins  another  chapter  of  its  history,  too  few 
of  the  annual  pages  of  which  have  as  yet  turned  for 
us  to  be  able  to  prognosticate  with  any  degree  of 
accuracy  the  final  result. 

But  before  taking  leave  of  the  opera-house  in  the 
Rue  Lepeletier,  mention  must  be  made  of  one  of 
the  most  extraordinary  coincidences  in  history. 
On  the  evening  of  January  I4th,  1858,  was  given 
the  farewell  benefit  performance  of  a  singer  named 
Massol.  The  programme  consisted  of  fragments  of 
"  Masaniello,"  in  which  there  is  a  revolt  against  a 
viceroy ;  of  three  acts  of  "  Maria  Stuarda,"  per- 
formed by  Signora  Ristori,  and  in  this  play  a  sover- 
eign is  executed  ;  and  of  the  second  act  of  "  William 


38  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

Tell,"  in  which  there  is  again  a  conspiracy  against 
royal  authority.  While  this  revolutionary  pro- 
gramme was  about  to  be  gone  through  on  the  stage 
of  the  Opera,  preparations  were  making  for  a  still 
more  bloody  attack  on  the  monarch  of  France. 
As  the  Emperor  and  Empress  turned  into  the  Rue 
Lepeletier  the  murderous  bombs  of  Orsini  ex- 
ploded, sparing  the  imperial  target,  but  maiming 
many  an  innocent  man  accidentally  present. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   NEW   OPERA. 

IT  is  now  a  little  over  five  years  since  the  new 
Opera  was  completed ;  it  is  not  yet  twenty  since  it 
was  definitely  decided  upon.  Toward  the  end  of 
1860  an  imperial  decree  announced  that  a  compe- 
tition would  be  opened  for  plans  for  the  new  build- 
ing. Although  only  a  month  was  allowed  for 
preparation,  one  hundred  and  seventy-one  plans 
were  submitted.  The  authors  of  the  five  best 
designs  competed  again  amongst  themselves,  and 
as  a  final  result  M.  Charles  Gamier  was  chosen  as 
the  architect.  Like  most  Frenchmen,  M.  Gamier 
is  nothing  if  not  logical.  His  views  of  what  a  theatre 
ought  to  be  are  set  forth  with  logical  exactness  in 
an  interesting  book  of  his  called  the  "Theatre." 

Unlike  most  men  who  have  laid  down  the  law, 
M.  Gamier  was  enabled  to  carry  out  his  ideas  on 
a  grand  scale.  The  successive  steps,  from  the  tear- 
ing down  of  block  after  block  of  old  houses,  and 
the  opening  of  street  after  street,  to  the  final  crown- 
ing of  the  completed  edifice,  are  all  to  be  found 
recorded  in  a  little  book  on  the  "  Nouvel  Opera," 
dedicated  to  M.  Garnier,  and  written  by  M.  Charles 
Nuitter,  the  archivist  of  the  institution.  From  this 

39 


40  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

volume  the  facts  in  the  few  following  pages  are  for 
the  most  part  borrowed.  Three  of  the  full-page 
wood  -  cuts  which  adorned  M.  Nuitter's  text  are 
reproduced  here  to  illustrate  these  brief  abstracts 
from  it. 

Owing  to  the  exceptional  depth  required  beneath 
the  stage,  twenty  metres  (nearly  sixty-five  feet), 
great  delay  was  experienced  in  the  work  from 
the  bursting  of  the  springs,  of  which  the  soil  was 
full.  It  took  a  year's  hard  work  to  pump  out  the 
water,  and  when  the  foundations  were  laid  they 
had  to  be  protected  by  very  massive  walls,  and  by 
a  series  of  reversed  arches  so  arranged  that  external 
pressure  would  only  consolidate  the  work  more 
firmly.  In  July,  1862,  Count  Walewski  laid  the 
corner-stone,  and  by  the  end  of  the  year  the  foun- 
dations were  finished.  In  1864  the  side  walls  were 
fully  up,  and  the  next  year  the  wings  were  partly 
covered  in.  Money  falling  short,  work  was  sus- 
pended on  the  interior  to  finish  the  exterior,  and 
on  the  Bonapartist  holiday  of  the  Exhibition  year, 
August  1 5th,  1867,  the  enormous  scaffolding,  filled 
with  innumerable  glass  sashes,  which  concealed  the 
front  of  the  building,  was  knocked  away  and  fell 
forward,  revealing  the  head  and  front  of  M.  Garnier's 
design.  Two  years  later  the  roof  was  completed. 
And  then  came  the  war  with  Prussia,  followed  at 
once  by  civil  strife  in  the  streets  of  Paris.  All  work 
on  the  building  ceased.  It  was  used  at  first  as  a 


The  New  Opera.  41 

hospital,  and  then  as  a  storehouse.  The  weights 
imposed  on  its  floors  and  arches  sometimes  made 
the  architect  tremble,  but  the  excellent  workman- 
ship resisted  every  strain. 

During  the  siege  of  Paris  a  detachment  of  sailors 
used  fhe  roof  as  a  signal  station  to  communicate 
with  the  outlying  forts.  During  the  rule  of  the 
Commyne,  the  same  station  served  the  improvised 
authorities  to  send  off  the  fire  balloons  which  they 
had  loaded  with  incendiary  proclamations  to  the 
people  of  France.  When  the  national  government 
regained  possession  of  the  capital,  it  was  found  that 
perhaps  three  hundred  thousand  francs  would 
repair  all  the  damage  done.  Work  was  resumed  at 
once,  in  spite  of  diminished  appropriations.  The 
day  after  the  fire  which  destroyed  the  theatre  in 
the  Rue  Lepeletier,  M.  Gamier,  on  his  personal 
credit,  pushed  everything  to  the  utmost  possible 
speed.  In  a  few  months  ample  appropriations  were 
made,  and  by  the  end  of  1874  the  building  was 
handed  over  to  the  manager  of  the  Opera. 

No  detailed  description  of  the  front  of  the  build- 
ing, nor  of  the  main  architectural  features,  is  need- 
ed ;  the  engraving  which  serves  as  a  frontispiece 
to  this  volume  speaks  for  itself.  M.  Gamier  holds 
that  there  are  three  parts  of  a  theatre — the  en- 
trance hall,  the  auditorium,  and  the  stage.  Be- 
lieving not  only  that  construction  should  not  be 
hidden,  but  that  it  should  be  obvious,  he  has 


42  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

placed  first  the  low-lying  division  of  the  building, 
which  contains  the  entrances,  exits,  waiting-rooms, 
and  the  famous  staircase.  Rising  roundly  ab6Ve 
this  is  the  circular  dome  of  the  auditorium.  Sharp- 
ly towering  behind  this,  again,  is  the  abrupt  roof  of 
the  stage.  Each  of  the  three  divisions  is  distinct, 
and  a  lateral  view  shows  at  once  the  intention  of 
each. 

Entering  the  Opera  either  in  the  centre,  if  you 
come  on  foot,  or  at  the  side,  if  you  roll  up  in  your 
carriage,  you  arrive  at  once  in  the  grand  circular 
vestibule  under  the  auditorium.  From  this  a  few 
steps  bring  you  out  on  the  grand  staircase,  upon 
which,  or  rather  upon  the  galleries  which  frame 
it,  each  tier  of  the  theatre  opens.  By  means  of 
this  staircase  and  these  galleries  the  spectators 
reach  their  boxes  or  seats  before  the  opera  begins, 
and  also  between  its  acts  go  from  them  to  the 
grand  foyer.  Unpleasant  as  it  is  to  be  forced  to  use 
a  French  word,  there  is  really  in  this  case  no  exact 
equivalent  in  English  ;  the/iyw  is  the  apartment, 
large  or  small  as  may  be,  which  in  every  French  the- 
atre is  used  as  a  promenade  between  the  acts.  We 
have  not  the  word,  perhaps  because  we  have  not 
the  thing.  French  theatres  in  general  are  so  badly 
ventilated,  and  soon  become  so  unendurably  hot, 
and  the  waits  between  the  acts  are  so  much  longer 
than  is  usual  with  us,  that  a  necessity  exists  for 
some  airy  hall  in  which  we  may  stretch  our  legs 


THE     GRAND     STAIRCASE. 


The  New  Opera.  45 

cramped  by  close  quarters.  The  foyer  of  the 
Opera,  like  that  of  the  Theatre  Frangais,  is  a  sight 
to  be  seen  for  its  own  sake,  even  if  there  were  no 
physical  need  of  it. 

The  foyer — since  the  word  must  be  used — ex- 
tends across  the  front  of  the  building.  It  is  fifty- 
four  metres  long,  thirteen  wide,  and  eighteen  high. 
(Elderly  readers  may  like  to  be  reminded  that  a 
metre  is  about  a  yard  and  a  tenth.)  The  design 
of  the  staircase  and  the  decoration  of  this  foyer 
may  be  considered  M.  Garnier's  chief  claims  to 
future  fame  as  a  great  artist.  In  both  he  has  rioted 
in  richness  of  color.  M.  Nuitter  tells  us  that  M. 
Gamier  has  been  called  the  Veronese  of  architects, 
and  that  more  than  once  M.  Gamier  has  accosted 
him  with  a  brief  "  I  am  going  away  to-night." 

"  Where  ?  "  the  surprised  archivist  would  ask. 

"  To  Italy,"  would  reply  the  architect  ;  "  I  begin 
to  feel  myself  attacked  by  the  white  and  gold  of 
the  restaurants,  and  I  am  going  off  there  to  look 
for  a  little  color." 

And  off  he  would  go  for  a  week,  rushing  away  to 
the  Pitti  Palace,  and  returning  full  of  new  vigor  and 
fresh  suggestions. 

On  the  ceiling  of  this  foyer  are  the  celebrated 
paintings  of  M.  Paul  Baudry.  There  are  two  grand 
allegorical  compositions  on  the  sides  of  a  central 
picture  representing  the  union  of  Melody  and  Har- 
mony, between  Poetry  and  Glory.  Two  secondary 


46  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

paintings  show  Comedy  and  Tragedy.  Ten  large 
compositions  show  the  effects  of  music  and  the 
dance,  and  the  triumphs  of  beauty.  The  intervals 
between  these  are  occupied  by  single  figures  of 
eight  of  the  muses — Philosophy  having  been  left 
without  a  representative.  Over  the  doors  are  oval 
panels  in  which  children  are  depicted  with  instru- 
ments symbolic  of  the  music  of  various  countries. 
This  rapid  enumeration  may  serve  to  show  the  ex- 
tent of  M.  Paul  Baudry's  artistic  labors ;  their 
beauties  I  have  neither  space  nor  qualifications 
adequately  to  portray.  It  may  suffice  to  say  that 
when  first  exhibited  to  the  art-lovers  of  Paris,  they 
were  at  once  recognized  as  among  the  finest  works 
of  French  pictorial  genius  of  this  century.  It  is  with 
general  regret  that  we  are  told  of  the  deterioration 
they  are  now  undergoing  from  the  effects  of  the  gas 
used  to  illuminate  the  foyer.  Either  one  of  the  new 
electric  lights  must  be  substituted  for  the  present 
noxious  gas,  or  the  paintings  must  be  removed  and 
copies  substituted.  M.  Gamier  has  as  yet  found  no 
electric  lamp  satisfactory  as  a  light  for  pictures.  He 
hopes  to  be  able  to  replace  M.  Baudry's  original 
paintings  with  copies  of  them  made  in  mosaic. 
One  of  the  ten  oval  panels  over  the  doors  of  the 
foyer  is  already  in  mosaic ;  perhaps  before  the  gas 
does  any  great  damage,  M.  Garnier's  ever-active 
ingenuity  may  devise  some  economical  method  of 
reproducing  the  rest  of  them  in  the  same  material. 


The  New  Opera.  49 

At  each  end  of  the  main  foyer  is  an  octagonal 
hall,  prolonging  the  perspective.  The  ceilings  of 
these  are  in  like  manner  decorated  with  oil  paint- 
ings— in  this  case  by  M.  Delaunay  and  M.  Barrias. 
This  is  but  a  hasty  description  of  the  foyer  and  its 
appendages  ;  to  describe  it  adequately,  as  M.  Nuit- 
ter  says,  would  take  a  volume. 

In  front  of  the  foyer,  between  it  and  the  external 
air,  is  the  loggia,  an  open  gallery,  overlooking  the 
approaches  to  the  Opera,  and  giving  a  long  view 
down  the  Avenue  de  1'Opera  to  the  Theatre  Fran- 
c,ais.  Easy  access  is  had  to  the  loggia  from  the 
foyer  by  double  glass  doors,  so  that  no  draft  pene- 
trates into  the  interior.  No  sharper  contrast  could 
well  be  imagined  than  to  turn  from  the  church 
scene  of  the  "  Prophet,"  or  the  prison  scene  of 
"  Faust,"  and  to  stand  in  the  outer  air  gazing  down 
on  the  bustle  and  hurry  of  nocturnal  life  along  the 
crossing  streets  and  boulevards  of  modern  Paris. 

Before  going  inside  the  building  again,  mention 
should  be  made  of  the  many  statues  in  bronze  and 
in  marble  which  adorn  the  outside.  As  a  glance 
at  the  engraving  of  the  facade  will  show,  M.  Gar- 
nier  believes  that  sculpture  is  the  handmaiden  of 
architecture,  and  he  has  put  a  statue  wherever  he 
could.  Up  on  the  attic  front  are  two  bronze 
groups  by  M.  Gumery,  representing  Harmony  and 
Poetry.  At  the  main  entrance  are  four  groups 
in  marble,  devoted  to  Music,  Lyric  Poetry,  Lyric 

4 


50  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

Drama,  and  the  Dance.  This  last  was  the  work 
of  the  late  M.  Carpeaux,  who  delighted  in  Bernini- 
like  effects.  When  his  group  was  first  shown  it 
excited  a  bitter  polemic.  It  was  denounced  as 
indecent  by  some,  and  defended  as  innocent  by 
others.  Articles  and  pamphlets  pro  and  con 
came  forth  in  rapid  succession.  At  length  one 
of  the  assailants,  tired  perhaps  of  wasting  his 
ink  uselessly  in  a  paper  war,  broke  a  bottle  of  it 
over  the  statue.  Fortunately  the  stains  were 
readily  obliterated.  Possibly  to  take  away  all 
temptation  to  a  repetition  of  the  offence,  the  au- 
thorities removed  the  rather  excited  figures  of  M. 
Carpeaux  to  the  interior  of  the  building,  and  a 
more  chaste  group  by  M.  Gumery  was  ordered  for 
the  exterior. 

Returning  again  to  the  interior  of  the  house,  and 
passing  up  the  monumental  staircase,  and  along  a 
corridor,  we  come  into  the  auditorium.  The  first 
impression  is  that  it  is  too  small — far  too  small. 
But  this  is  only  an  impression  ;  it  is  not  a  fact. 
The  false  impression  is  caused  by  the  altogether  ab- 
normal grandeur  of  the  approaches.  The  size  of  the 
staircase,  for  instance,  is  such  as  to  make  one  ex- 
pect to  find  a  theatre  of  full  twice  the  size  of  that 
which  one  enters.  The  exact  fact  is  that  the  audi- 
torium of  the  Op6ra  is  among  the  largest  in  the 
world.  In  seating  capacity  it  is  but  little  the  infe- 
rior of  any  opera-house,  as  may  be  seen  by  this 


The  New  Optra.  51 

little  table  of  the  number  of  places  in  each  of  the 
chief  operatic  theatres  of  the  world  : 

Fenice,  Venice 2,000  seats. 

Academy  of  Music,  New  York .  2,000  " 

Carlo  Felice,  Genoa 2,000  " 

San  Carlos,  Lisbon 2,000  " 

Opera,  Paris   2, 100  " 

Royal  Theatre,  Munich 2,300  " 

Opera,  Vienna 2,400  " 

.Covent  Garden,  London 2,500  " 

La  Scala,  Milan 3,ooo  " 

In   the   old    opera-house    in    the    Rue    Lepeletier 
there  were  places  for  only  1,783  persons. 

If,  however,  the  auditorium  is  not  remarkable 
for  its  great  size,  the  stage  is.  M.  Nuitter  declares 
that  it  is  the  largest  in  the  world.  Its  depth  is  not 
phenomenal,  but  in  width  and  height  it  surpasses 
all  its  rivals.  In  case  special  depth  should  be  re- 
quired, a  long  passage  behind  the  stage,  some 
six  metres  wide,  can  be  thrown  open  to  the  eye 
of  the  spectator ;  and  behind  this  again  is  the 
magnificent  green-room  of  the  ballet,  which  can 
also  be  utilized  if  need  be — thus  giving  a  total 
depth  of  nearly  fifty  metres.  The  stage  is  not  only 
the  finest  in  extent,  it  is  also  the  most  elaborately 
equipped  with  machinery  of  all  kinds.  All  the 
supports  of  the  stage,  all  the  devices  for  lowering 
and  hoisting  the  scenes,  all  the  beams  which  sus- 


52  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

tain  the  traps,  all  the  manifold  frameworks  needed 
for  the  proper  presentation  of  richly  spectacular 
operas  and  ballets,  are  not  in  wood,  as  in  other 
theatres,  but  in  iron,  thus  lessening  the  number 
and  reducing  the  size  of  the  forest  of  posts  and 
beams  which  always  seem  to  hold  up  the  stage  in 
other  theatres. 

The  mention,  a  few  lines  ago,  'of  the  magnificent 
green-room  of  the  ballet  brings  me  naturally  to  the 
consideration  of  a  remarkable  peculiarity  of  the 
Opera.  In  the  early  days  of  the  modern  theatre 
spectators  were  freely  allowed  on  the  stage ;  they 
stood  and  sat  and  encumbered  the  boards  to  such 
an  extent  that  when  Voltaire  brought  out  his 
tragedy  of  "  Semiramis  "  (for  which  he  had  borrowed 
some  of  the  effects  of  the  "  Hamlet "  he  had  reviled), 
the  ghost  could  not  come  forward  until  the  ushers 
had  besought  space  for  him,  crying  "  Room,  gentle- 
men, room  if  you  please  for  monsieur  the  ghost!  " 
It  was  perhaps  this  perilling  of  tragic  dignity  which 
led  to  the  abating  of  the  nuisance.  At  all  events,  in 
the  last  century  a  reform  was  made,  and  no  specta- 
tors were  allowed  anywhere  behind  the  curtain 
either  of  the  Opera  or  of  the  two  great  theatres,  the 
French  and  Italian  Comedies.  One  exception,  how- 
ever, was  made  at  the  Opera,  an  exception  which 
rules  to  this  day. 

The  regular  subscribers,  taking  their  seats  three 
nights  a  week  during  the  season,  have  the  right  of 


The  New  Opera.  53 

admission  to  the  green-room  of  the  ballet.  This 
custom,  as  to  the  morality  of  which  it  may  be  as 
well  to  say  nothing,  has  obtained  since  1770,  when 
the  Opera  took  possession  of  its  house  in  the  Palais 
Royal.  In  1774  a  royal  edict  forbade  all  communi- 
cation between  the  public  and  the  performers,  but 
it  soon  fell  into  abeyance.  In  the  new  house  of 
M.  Gamier,  the  right  of  certain  privileged  persons 
to  come  into  the  green-room  of  the  ballet  is  frankly 
acknowledged,  and  due  preparation  in  consequence 
is  made  for  their  reception.  The  green-room  of  the 
ballet  is  a  magnificent  hall  a  little  behind  the  stage, 
decorated  almost  as  extravagantly  as  \.\\e  foyer  in 
the  front  of  the  house.  Portraits  of  the  great 
ballet-dancers  who  have  succeeded  one  another  on 
the  stage  of  the  Opera,  and  of  the  great  ballet-com- 
posers, fill  panels  on  the  walls ;  and  on  the  ceiling 
are  four  grand  panels  by  M.  Boulanger,  representing 
the  War  Dance,  the  Country  Dance,  the  Love 
Dance,  and  the  Bacchic  Dance.  It  is  in  this  green- 
room that  the  day  rehearsals  of  the  ballet  are  held ; 
and  here  at  night  come  the  dancers  to  try  a  step  or 
two  before  appearing  in  front  of  the  footlights.  To 
facilitate  practice,  the  floor  slopes  just  like  that  of 
the  stage.  Iron  bars  covered  with  velvet  are  affixed 
to  all  the  walls  for  the  dancers  to  lay  hold  of  while 
indulging  in  the  preliminary  exercises  which  serve 
to  loosen  the  joints  and  make  them  supple. 

It  is  difficult  to  overestimate  the  important  po- 


54  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

sition  which  the  ballet  holds  at  the  Academy  of 
Music.  We,  in  America,  scarcely  know  what  a 
good  ballet  is.  Fine  dancers  we  have  had  in  plenty. 
The  chief  dancer  to-day  at  the  Opera  is  the  Mile. 
Rita  Sangalli  who  made  her  first  great  success  in 
New  York  in  the  "  Black  Crook,"  now  fourteen 
years  ago.  But  the  ballets  we  have  seen  have 
been  incidental  ballets ;  and  beyond  two  or  three 
star  dancers  the  quality  was  mediocre.  Now  the 
beauty  of  a  ballet  lies  in  the  merit  of  all  the  dan- 
cers, in  the  uniformity  of  drill  and  harmony  of 
execution  evident  in  all  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest. 

This  of  course  we  cannot  have,  or  hope  to  have, 
in  America  as  long  as  the  ballet  is  a  mere  itinerant 
accident.  A  good  three-act  ballet  pantomime,  like 
the  "  Source"  of  M.  Leo  Delibes,  or  the  "  Yedda" 
of  M.  Olivier  Metra,  telling  a  simple  but  dramatic 
story  in  three  well  contrasted  acts,  would  be  little 
less  than  a  revelation  in  New  York.  In  Paris  the 
ballet  is  not  an  incident ;  it  is  an  institution.  An 
engagement  there  is  a  settlement  for  life.  It  robs 
the  cradle  and  the  grave.  It  trains  the  young  and 
it  pensions  the  old.  Man  may  be  found  there  in 
each  of  his  seven  ages,  and  woman  in  her  solitary 
one.  One  of  the  leading  dancing-masters  of  Paris, 
M.  1'Enfant,  told  me  that  he  had  been  in  the  ballet 
of  the  Opera  for  fifty-four  years ;  he  had  gone  on 
at  six  as  a  Cupid,  passing  slowly  through  the  grades 


The  New  Opera.  55 

of  tiny  imp,  young  lover,  and  heavy  villain,  to  the 
dignity  of  noble  father ;  he  had  retired  on  a  pension 
at  the  age  of  sixty,  thereafter  amusing  his  leisure, 
and  increasing  his  income,  by  arranging  the  ger- 
mans  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  second  quarter  of  this 
century,  when  the  ruler  of  the  Opera  was  Dr.  Veron, 
from  whose  garrulous  memoirs  many  curious  items 
can  be  gathered  of  the  secrets  of  his  manage- 
ment, and  of  his  trials  and  tribulations  at  the  hands 
of  a  bevy  of  beauties  over  whom  he  ruled,  there 
appeared  upon  the  boards  in  rapid  succession  a 
galaxy  of  dancing  stars  whose  like  has  never  been 
seen  before  or  since.  Paul,  Albert,  Perrot,  among 
the  men  ;  Taglioni,  Elssler,  Cerito,  Grisi,  Duvernay, 
among  the  women,  were  a  few  of  the  leading  lights. 
As  the  ballet-masters  he  had  Taglioni,  the  father  of 
his  daughter,  and  Vestris,  the  son  and  grandson  of 
his  ancestors.  Dr.  Veron  spared  no  expense  in 
mounting  a  ballet  like  the  "  Sylphide,"  or  an  opera 
like  "  Robert  the  Devil,"  with  the  weird  dance  in 
which  Mademoiselle  Taglioni  appears  as  the  Abbess. 
It  was  the  period  of  the  greatest  prosperity  that  the 
ballet  has  ever  known.  And  its  power  in  the  Opera 
of  Paris  has  never  been  broken  since.  Nowhere  is 
it  more  potent.  Whatever  may  be  the  opera  which 
divides  the  bill  with  the  ballet — even  though  it  be 
the  "  Orpheus  "  of  Gliick — matters  little ;  it  is  not 
heard.  "On  n'entend  que  le  ballet," as  the  saying 


56  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

goes;  "They  only  listen  to  the  ballet."  To  the 
might  of  the  Parisian  adorers  of  Terpsichore  is  due 
the  damning  of  Herr  Wagner's  "  Tannhauser  " — at 
least  so  it  has  been  said. 

To  keep  up  this  training  school  for  dancers,  to 
support  the  daily  expense  of  an  institution  so  gi- 
gantic as  the  Opera,  to  meet  the  pay-roll  of  some- 
times five  hundred  names,  to  satisfy  the  exorbitant 
demands  of  star  singers,  to  mount  every  opera 
with  the  utmost  sumptuousness,  to  be  prepared  for 
the  multifarious  requisitions  which  may  at  any  time 
be  made,  is  no  easy  task  for  one  man,  and  no  pri- 
vate purse  is  equal  to  it.  The  Opera  has  rarely 
been  able  to  pay  its  annual  expenses,  and  the  gov- 
ernment has  to  come  to  the  rescue.  The  subven- 
tion has  varied  from  three  hundred  thousand  a  year 
during  the  first  Republic  to  nine  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  under  the  Restoration.  The  present  sub- 
vention is  midway  between  these  extremes.  This 
yearly  contribution  of  the  nation  to  the  cause  of 
musical  and  Terpsichorean  art  is  in  addition  to  the 
use  rent  free  of  the  building  itself,  erected  at  a 
cost  of  not  far  from  fifty  millions  of  francs  (say  ten 
millions  of  dollars),  the  annual  interest  on  which  at 
three  per  cent.,  the  current  rate  in  France  for  gov- 
ernment loans,  is  three  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
In  one  way  or  another  it  may  be  said  that  the  sup- 
port of  the  Opera  in  Paris  costs  the  people  of 
France  very  nearly  half  a  million  of  dollars  a  year. 


The  New  Opera.  57 

The  advocates  of  the  paternal  theory  of  govern- 
ment will  be  pleased  to  learn  that  when  the  building 
was  in  progress  a  state  commission  was  appointed 
to  discuss  the  best  method  of  scene-shifting.  And 
the  civil  service  reformers  may  be  glad  to  be  told 
that  the  vacancies  in  the  orchestra  are  always  filled 
by  competitive  examination. 

It  is  with  the  view  of  making  up  for  any  possible 
loss  that,  during  each  winter,  a  certain  number  of 
masked  balls  are  given  at  the  Opera.  By  means  of 
devices  invented  originally  by  a  monk,  the  audi- 
torium and  the  stage  can  be  floored  over  in  a  few 
hours.  There  are  generally  four  balls,  of  which  the 
best  is  the  one  nearest  to  Ash-Wednesday.  Two 
bands,  led  by  the  first  bandmasters  of  Paris,  provide 
the  music,  various  special  waltzes  being  nearly  al- 
ways written  for  the  occasion.  But  it  is  not  neces- 
sary to  dilate  on  the  opera  balls.  Everybody  has 
heard  of  them.  It  may  be  noted,  however,  that  at 
the  first  ball  given  in  the  new  Opera,  American 
soda-water — "  d'excellents  sodas  glaces  a  1'Ameri- 
caine,"  so  a  gossiper  of  the  Figaro  called  them — 
were  among  the  favorite  beverages ;  this  shows 
rapid  progress  on  the  part  of  the  Parisians,  for  it  was 
only  nine  years  since  they  had  their  first  taste  of 
this  delectable  beverage  at  the  American  restaurant 
in  the  Exhibition  of  1867. 

High  up  in  the  top  of  one  of  the  side  semicircu- 
lar pavilions  of  the  Opera,  six  or  seven  stories  above 


58  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

the  level  of  the  surrounding  streets,  are  the  ample 
apartments  set  aside  for  the  archives  and  the  li- 
brary. After  the  daring  visitor  has  entered  the 
stage  door  and  mounted  the  seemingly  intermina- 
ble steps,  he  comes  out  into  long  corriders  lined 
with  presses,  in  which  are  stored  the  many  precious 
musical  MSS.  of  the  Opera  acquired  during  its  two 
hundred  years  of  existence  ;  in  glazed  cases  on  the 
top  of  these  presses  are  exposed  certain  of  the  more 
curious  autographs.  The  musical  MSS.,  and  all  the 
music,  in  fact,  printed  or  engraved,  are  under  the 
care  of  M.  Theodore  de  Lajarte,  the  musical  libra- 
rian, and  he  it  is  who  has  prepared  the  "  Catalogue 
de  la  Bibliotheque  Musicale  du  Theatre  de  1'Opera," 
already  referred  to.  In  the  second  volume  of  this 
invaluable  work  is  an  etching,  by  M.  Le  Rat,  of  the 
ample  oval  room  at  the  top  of  the  pavilion,  in 
which  is  now  ranged  the  dramatic,  operatic,  Terpsi- 
chorean,  and  generally  theatrical  library  of  the 
Opera,  under  the  care  of  M.  Nuitter,  the  archivist. 
This  collection  is,  perhaps,  the  best  theatrical  li- 
brary in  Paris,  and  it  is  rapidly  growing.  Both 
English  and  German  drama  and  dramatic  biogra- 
phy are  well  represented  in  it,  and  it  is  altogether 
more  cosmopolitan  than  French  collections  usually 
are.  M.  Nuitter  himself  is  my  authority  for  saying 
that,  as  soon  as  he  has  filled  a  few  more  vacancies, 
he  proposes  issuing  a  catalogue,  which  will  certainly 
be  one  of  the  most  important  in  its  class.  In  time 


The  New  Opera.  59 

he  hopes  to  be  able  to  move  his  precious  collections 
from  their  present  lofty  elevation  to  more  accessi- 
ble quarters  on  the  lower  floor  of  what  was  designed 
as  the  imperial  pavilion.  The  Bonaparte  family 
having  no  immediate  use  for  it,  no  better  destina- 
tion could  be  suggested  than  this.  An  attempt  has 
been  made  to  secure  for  the  Opera  what  is  left  of 
the  unequalled  collection  of  theatrical  books  and 
pamphlets  made  by  the  late  Baron  Taylor. 

Before  leaving  the  Opera  finally,  it  may  be  of 
interest  to  sdme  readers  interested  in  musical  his- 
tory to  draw  up  from  the  latest  issues  of  the  "  Al- 
manach  des  Spectacles  "  a  statement  of  the  com- 
parative popularity  of  the  chief  works  of  the  French 
school.  Up  to  the  beginning  of  last  year — 

Meyerbeer's    "  Robert  the  Devil"  had  been  given  632  times. 

"  Huguenots  "  656 

"             "  Prophet  "  "            "          382  " 

"Africaine"  281  " 

Rossini's          "  William  Tell "  "            "          632  " 

Donizetti's      "Favorite"  499  " 

M.  Gounod's  "  Faust"  279 

M.  Thomas's  "  Hamlet "  156  " 

Halevy's          "Jewess"  436  ' 

Mozart's           "  Don  Juan "  174  " 

Of  these  ten  operas  "  Faust  "  is  the  only  one 
which  was  not  written  for  the  Opera  and  originally 
produced  there.  A  record  like  this  is  one  of  which 
any  theatre  might  well  be  proud. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   OTHER   MUSICAL  THEATRES. 

THE  Italian  opera  of  Paris  no  longer  exists,  and 
the  owners  of  the  youthful  and  feminine  hearts 
which  have  thrilled  at  the  touching  strains  of  Owen 
Meredith's  "Aux  Italiens  "  may  now  be  reminded 
that  it  is  not  now  possible  to  be  "at  the  Italiens," 
for  the  simple  reason  that  the  Salle  Ventadour, 
sacred  to  the  music  of  the  south,  has  been  sold  to  a 
banking  company,  and  turned  into  offices  from 
which  issue  notes  of  a  more  substantial  value  than 
those  emitted  from  the  throats  of  Mme.  Patti  and 
M.  Nicolini.  Having  no  longer  any  home  in  Paris, 
Italian  opera  has  only  visited  it  of  late  sparingly. 
And  even  before  the  alienation  of  the  Salle  Venta- 
dour, which  took  place  early  in  1879,  f°r  several 
years  the  success  of  Italian  opera  in  Paris  had  been 
doubtful.  Unlike  the  English  and  Americans,  the 
French  like  opera  in  their  own  tongue,  and  while 
in  both  London  and  New  York  the  Italian  opera- 
house  holds  the  foremost  position  among  the  musi- 
cal theatres  of  the  city,  both  artistically  and  fash- 
ionably, in  Paris  it  does  not.  There  the  Opera  is 
at  once  the  resort  of  the  best  society  and  the  head- 
quarters of  musicians.  Second  to  the  Opera,  and 

60 


The  Other  Musical  Theatres.  61 

coming  before  the  Italian  theatre,  even  when  it  was 
in  the  height  of  its  glory,  is  the  Opera  Comique. 
(Some  non-musical  readers  may  need  to  be  re- 
minded that  a  "comic  opera"  is  not  necessarily 
comic ;  it  is  so  called  to  distinguish  it  from  "  grand 
opera.") 

In  Paris  comic  opera  is  indigenous,  and  Italian 
opera  is  an  exotic,  and,  without  external  aid,  it 
languishes  there  as  it  does  here.  Its  success  in 
Paris,  as  in  America,  has  been  spasmodic,  depend- 
ing rather  upon  the  excitement  created  by  one 
star,  than  the  harmony  of  the  whole.  Now,  al- 
though the  Opera  and  Opera  Comique  have  had 
many  great  singers,  their  strength  has  always  lain 
not  in  the  exceptional  superiority  of  an  individual, 
but  in  the  general  excellence  of  the  whole.  The 
style  in  which  pieces  are  put  upon  the  stage  was  no 
better  in  the  Salle  Ventadour  that  it  is  in  our  Acad- 
emy; there  was  the  same  polyglot  company  with 
half-Italianized  names,  the  same  absurd  scenery 
and  costumes,  the  same  lack  of  care  and  taste  and 
style.  In  Paris  Italian  opera  flourished  only  in 
the  hot-bed  of  fashion,  and  but  for  a  season ;  it 
bloomed  but  to  wither,  and  in  most  respects  its 
history  there  is  very  like  its  history  here.  Many  of 
the  operas  which  we  are  accustomed  to  hear  in 
Italian,  in  New  York,  were  originally  written  in 
French  for  the  Opera  or  for  the  Opera  Comique, 
and  are  constantly  performed  at  one  theatre  or  the 


62  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

other.  The  manager  of  the  Salle  Ventadour  had 
therefore  to  rely  either  on  the  early  and  well-worn 
operas  of  the  few  first-rate  Italian  composers,  who 
had  not  written  specially  for  the  Paris  public,  or  on 
the  latest  novelties,  which  are  always  ticklish  com- 
modities, not  having  yet  received  the  stamp  of 
popular  approval.  The  final  efforts  to  attract  pay- 
ing audiences  to  the  house  were  made  by  a  music 
publisher,  who  brought  out  Signer  Verdi's  "Ai'da," 
and  by  M.  Capoul,  who  wanted  to  appear  as  Romeo 
in  the  Marquis  d'lvry's  "  Lovers  of  Verona,"  and 
so  took  the  theatre  to  attempt  the  part.  And  this 
last  play,  it  is  to  be  noted,  was  given  in  French.  A 
few  weeks  after  Romeo  had  sung  his  dying  song,  the 
Salle  Ventadour  was  handed  over  to  the  carpenters 
and  masons,  and  Paris  had  one  theatre  the  less. 

In  one  peculiarity,  at  least,  Italian  opera  in  Paris 
differed  from  the  same  amusement  in  New  York. 
In  both  cities  it  occupied  for  specified  seasons  a 
house  erected  especially  for  it,  and  in  both  reliance 
must  be  had  more  or  less  on  subscriptions  made  in 
advance  for  the  whole  number  of  specified  per- 
formances. Now  in  New  York  the  subscriber  pays 
for  his  box  and  takes  his  tickets,  and  there  is  no 
further  demand  on  his  purse.  But  in  Paris  the 
payment  for  the  tickets  only  secured  to  him  the 
right  of  admission ;  he  had  in  addition  to  pay  for 
carpeting  the  box,  and  for  furnishing  it,  and  for 
lighting  it,  and  for  heating  it. 


The  Other  Musical  Theatres.  63 

The  Opera  Comique  is  one  of  the  oldest  theatres 
in  Paris.  It  is  the  outgrowth  of  the  strolling  com- 
panies of  comedians  who  pitched  their  tents  at  the 
fairs  in  the  environs  of  Paris  in  the  early  part  of 
the  last  century.  The  royal  and  privileged  theatres 
sought  to  prevent  this  suburban  rivalry,  and  royal 
edicts  from  time  to  time  fell  with  heavy  force  on  the 
sprightly  and  often  personal  performances  of  the 
travelling  bands.  At  one  period  the  actors  of  the 
fair  were  forbidden  to  sing  or  speak.  The  ingenu- 
ity of  French  dramatists,  chief  among  whom  was 
Le  Sage,  the  author  of  "Gil  Bias,"  devised  means 
of  overcoming  this  prohibition.  The  story  of  the 
play  was  told  in  pantomime  until  words  were 
wanted,  and  then  the  actor  took  from  his  pocket  a 
huge  scroll,  on  which,  when  unrolled,  the  spectators 
could  read  the  required  phrase.  The  prohibition 
as  to  speech  was  thus  evaded ;  and  the  method  of 
getting  around  that  against  singing  was  equally  in- 
genious. At  the  appropriate  moment  a  placard 
descended  from  the  folds  of  the  drop-curtain,  hav- 
ing on  it  the  words  of  the  song,  and  an  indication 
of  the  popular  tune  to  which  they  could  be  sung, 
seeing  which,  and  knowing  that  the  actors  were 
debarred  from  executing  it,  the  audience  would 
very  kindly  sing  the  stanza  themselves. 

In  1762  the  chief  actors  of  the  fair  companies 
joined  one  of  the  three  privileged  theatres — the 
Italian  Comedy,  the  successors  of  the  comedians 


64  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

who  had  shared  on  alternate  nights  Moliere's  stage. 
The  language  of  the  theatre  became  French,  with 
an  occasional  dropping  into  Italian.  In  1780,  all 
but  one  of  the  surviving  Italian  actors  went  back 
to  Italy ;  but  the  company  still  continued  to  be 
successful,  and  to  bear  the  title  of  the  Italian  Com- 
edy. In  1792,  at  the  height  of  the  growing  patri- 
otic feeling  of  that  time,  the  name  was  changed  to 
National  Opera  Comique.  All  through  the  Rev- 
olution, and  the  Republic,  and  the  Empire,  and  the 
Restoration,  and  coming  in  of  the  Orleans  branch, 
and  the  second  Republic,  and  the  second  Empire, 
and  the  third  Republic,  in  good  days  and  in  evil 
days,  the  Op£ra  Comique  was  prosperous.  It  is 
only  of  late  that  its  popularity  seems  to  have  some- 
what waned.  It  receives  an  annual  subvention 
from  the  government,  which  keeps  up  its  staff,  and 
pays  its  pensions,  and  gives  a  solidity  to  the  insti- 
tution for  the  most  part  lacking  in  merely  private 
enterprises. 

Among  the  operas  which  the  Opera  Comique 
has  given  to  the  world  are  some  of  the  best  works 
of  Gretry,  Auber,  Boieldieu,  M.  Ambroise  Tho- 
mas, and  M.  Charles  Gounod.  A  long  list  might 
be  made  of  pieces  which  every  opera-goer  would 
recognize  at  sight,  although  they  have  more  often 
been  heard  in  this  country  in  Italian  or  English 
than  in  French.  Mention  must  be  made  of  Au- 
ber's  "  Crown  Diamonds,"  and  "  Fra  Diavolo,"  of 


The  Other  Musical  Theatres.  65 

Meyerbeer's  "Star  of  the  North,"  of  Harold's 
"  Zampa,"  of  Bizet's  "  Carmen,"  and  of  M.  Ambroise 
Thomas's  "  Mignon."  In  these  two  last  operas  the 
chief  parts,  so  strongly  contrasted,  were  both  cre- 
ated— to  use  the  French  phrase — by  Mme.  Galli- 
Marie,  the  elder  sister  of  the  Mme.  Irma-Mari£  who 
was  one  of  the  earliest  expounders  of  op£ra  bouffe 
in  these  United  States,  and  also  of  Mme.  Paola- 
Marie,  one  of  the  latest.  M.  Capoul,  M.  Achard, 
and  Mme.  Marie  Cabel  have  also  at  different  times 
held  leading  positions  at  the  Opera  Comique,  which, 
however,  like  its  big  brother  the  Opera,  relies  rather 
on  the  whole  than  the  part,  rather  on  the  smooth- 
ness of  an  entire  performance  than  the  merit  of  a 
single  star. 

At  various  times  the  need  has  been  felt  of  a  third 
French  opera-house — -the  Italian  opera  not  being 
considered — which  should  play  musical  dramas  not 
light  enough  for  the  Opera  Comique,  and  not  im- 
portant or  elaborate  enough  for  the  Opera.  To 
supply  this  want,  and  to  give  young  composers  a 
chance  to  produce  themselves,  the  city  built  the 
Theatre  Lyrique  in  the  Place  du  Chatelet.  Under 
the  direction  of  M.  Carvalho,  in  the  years  before 
the  troubles  of  1870,  the  Theatre*  Lyrique  had  a 
prosperous  career.  It  transferred  works  from  the 
German  and  Italian — although  but  sparingly — and 
it  brought  out  new  French  operas.  The  "  Rienzi  " 
of  Herr  Wagner,  and  the  "  Faust,"  "  Mireille," 

5 


66  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

and  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  of  M.  Gounod  were  first 
heard  within  its  walls ;  since  then  M.  Gounod's 
masterpiece  has  been  adopted  by  the  Opera, 
whither  Mme.  Miolan  Carvalho,  the  wife  of  the 
manager,  and  the  or\g\m\.  Marguerite,  has  also  gone 
to  sing  it. 

During  the  Commune  the  Theatre  Lyrique  was 
burnt.  When  it  was  finally  rebuilt  the  title  and  the 
subvention  had" gone  to  the  Theatre  de  la  Gaite, 
where  M.  Vizentini  endeavored  to  repeat  M.  Car- 
valho's  success.  But  he  had  good  luck  only  with 
M.  Victor  Masse's  "  Paul  and  Virginia,"  and  after 
struggling  vainly  with  the  unending  expense  of 
unremunerative  operatic  management,  he  gave  up, 
and  the  Theatre  de  la  Gaite  went  back  for  a  time 
to  the  Offenbachanalian  spectacle  in  which  it  had 
been  before  revelling. 

Of  late  another  attempt  at  the  same  theatre  has 
been  made.  A  company  calling  itself  the  Popular 
Opera  is  established  at  the  Gaite,  and  is  striving 
to  get  municipal  recognition,  and  to  have  allotted 
to  it  an  annual  subvention,  akin  to  the  sum  which 
first  put  the  Theatre  Lyrique  above  the  daily  perils 
of  a  private  enterprise  calling  for  great  daily  out- 
lay and  relying  on  a  wholly  uncertain  return. 

Like  the  Theatre  Lyrique,  the  Porte  St.  Martin 
Theatre  was  burnt  during  the  brief  rule  of  the  Com- 
mune. After  the  triumph  of  order,  before  it  was 
rebuilt,  a  new  Theatre  de  la  Renaissance  was 


The  Other  Musical  Theatres. 


67 


erected  close  to  the  site  of  the  destroyed  theatre. 
The  new  house,  which  architecturally  is  one  of  the 
prettiest  and  most  notable  in  Paris,  was  intended 
originally  for  domestic  and  tragic  drama.  Here 
M.  Emile  Zola's  first  play  failed.  Indeed  nearly 
everything  attempted  was  either  damned  out  of 


THEATRE   DE  LA    RENAISSANCE. 


hand  or  died  slowly  of  inanition.  Suddenly  the 
theatre  changed  hands.  The  new  manager  was  M. 
Victor  Koning,  one  of  the  authors  of  "  Mme.  An- 
got's  Daughter."  The  drama  was  ignominiously 
shown  to  the  door,  and  the  lightsome  music  of  M. 
Lecocq  and  his  fellows  took  its  place. 

Opera  bouffe  will  be  duly  considered  in  a  later 


68  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

chapter,  and,  in  so  far  as  the  performances  at  the 
Theatre  de  la  Renaissance  have  been  opera  bouffe, 
they  may  now  be  passed  over.  But  while  like  to 
opera  bouffe  in  some  respects,  they  were  not  opera 
bouffe,  but  something  which  had  grown  out  of 
opera  bouffe. 

The  visitor  to  Paris  during  the  last  Exhibition, 
who  was  also  a  visitor  during  the  Exhibition  of  nine 
years  before,  could  not  but  be  struck  by  the  differ- 
ence of  tone  in  the  programmes  presented  for  his 
consideration  by  the  theatres  of  Paris.  The  form  of 
entertainment  which  seemed  so  abundantly  and  so 
accurately  to  reflect  the  folly  and  the  extravagance 
of  the  imperial  days,  opera  bouffe,  was  almost  wholly 
invisible  to  those  who  have  accepted  the  invitation 
of  the  Republic.  During  my  stay  of  four  weeks  in 
Paris,  not  a  single  opera  bouffe  appeared  on  the  bills 
of  any  Paris  theatre.  M.  Offenbach's  "  Orphee," 
it  is  true,  was  revived  at  the  Gaite  as  a  spectacular 
piece  a  few  days  after  I  left.  The  Bouffes,  as  its 
name  indicates,  the  home  of  opera  of  this  type,  was 
closed.  At  the  Renaissance  the  successful  "  Little 
Duke"  of  MM.  Meilhac  and  Halevy,  the  authors 
of  the  "  Grand  Duchess,"  was  avowedly  an  opera 
comique,  and  M.  Lecocq's  music  was  altogether 
within  the  limits  set  by  Auber  and  Herold.  At 
the  Folies  Dramatiques  the  even  more  successful 
"  Chimes  of  Corneville  "  had,  as  we  know  in  New 
York,  far  more  of  the  characteristics  of  the  opera 


The  Other  Musical  Theatres.  69 

comique  than  of  its  extravagant  younger  sister. 
Whether  this  change,  a  real  reform,  was  due  to  the 
advent  of  the  Republic  and  of  a  consequent  auster- 
ity of  manners  or  not,  it  was  welcome  ;  and,  although 
the  "  Timbale  d'Argent "  and  a  few  other  outrageous 
indecencies  have  come  into  existence  since  the  fall 
of  the  Empire,  it  seems  as  though  the  play-going 
Parisian  public  had  experienced  a  change  of  heart. 

A  kindred  change  was  to  be  seen  in  the  theatres 
on  the  other  side  of  the  channel.  Ten  years  ago 
most  of  the  theatres  in  London  were  given  up  to 
loud  sensation.  Now  the  merely  sensational  play, 
while  it  has  not  wholly  disappeared — it  satisfies  a 
certain  portion  of  the  theatre-going  public  too  well 
to  vanish  utterly — has  sunk  to  the  subordinate 
position  which  it  deserves,  and  the  most  successful 
theatres  in  London  are  those  aiming  at  the  proper 
all-round  presentation  of  comedy,  and  taking  as 
their  model  the  Gymnase  or  the  Vaudeville  of  Paris. 
From  out  of  the  empty  and  vapid  burlesques  has 
been  developed  a  genuine  English  comic  opera, 
neitherop6ra  bouffe  nor  opera  comique  ;  the  spirit  of 
bouffe  is  foreign  to  English  ways,  and  almost  equally 
strange  is  the  romantic  grace  of  opera  comique. 

The  same  years  which  have  seen  in  France  the 
development  of  the  unclean  opera  bouffe  into  the 
clean  but  still  amusing  opera  comique  of  M.  Lecocq, 
saw  in  England  the  slow  growth  of  the  cheap  bur- 
lesque into  very  amusing  and  genuine  comic  opera 


/o  The  Theatres  of  Paris, 

of  the  type  of  "  Trial  by  Jury  "  and  "  H.  M.  S. 
Pinafore" 

In  Paris  the  leader  in  this  change  has  been  the 
Theatre  de  la  Renaissance,  and  it  has  been  closely 
followed  by  the  Folies  Dramatiques,  a  little  house 
for  a  long  time  given  over  to  naked  and  blatant 
musical  parodies  like  the  "  Little  Faust "  of  M. 
Herve.  Of  this  new  school,  which  is  certainly  not 
opera  bouffe,  and  which  lacks  the  pretensions  of  the 
modern  opera  comique — although  it  is  probably  not 
at  all  unlike  what  the  opera  comique  was  in  its 
earlier  days — the  best  known  examples  are  "  Ma- 
dame Angot's  Daughter"  and  the  "Little  Duke," 
both  composed  by  M.  Lecocq,  and  the  "  Chimes  of 
Corneville,"  by  M.  P.  Planquette. 

How  great  is  the  Parisian  liking  for  music  may 
perhaps.be  judged  by  this  :  in  January,  1880,  seven 
of  the  twenty-three  most  important  theatres  were 
giving  operas,  while  at  three  others  the  plays,  al- 
though not  actually  operatic,  were  full  of  songs. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   COMEDIE-FRANCAISE. 

> 

THAT  the  stage  is  in  a  better  condition  in  France 
to-day  than  in  any  other  country  is  hardly  matter 
of  dispute ;  and  Paris  is  France,  as  far  at  least  as 
the  stage  is  concerned.  It  is  not  perhaps  that  there 
are  more  good  actors  in  the  French  language  than 
in  English  or  German,  but  the  good  English-speak- 
ing actors  are  scattered  broadcast  over  Great 
Britain  and  greater  Britain,  and  the  good  German 
actors  are  divided  here  and  there  among  the  count- 
less court  theatres  of  the  fatherland.  The  best  of 
French  actors  are  gathered  into  the  half  dozen  best 
theatres  of  Paris;  and  the  first  company  of  Paris 
is  incomparably  the  finest  company  in  the  world. 
This  company  is  the  Com6die-Frangaise,  which  acts 
at  the  Theatre  Fran^ais. 

When  Jean  Baptiste  Poquelin  de  Moliere  came 
to  Paris,  in  1658,  at  the  head  of  the  company  of 
comedians  who  had  been  perfecting  their  playing 
during  provincial  wanderings  for  twelve  years,  and 
received  from  the  king,  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  the 
title  of  "  King's  Company,"  and  the  promise  of  a 
pension  of  seven  thousand  livres  a  year,  he  found 
already  installed  in  the  city  two  other  companies 


7-2  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

of  actors.  One  was  the  company  of  the  Marais 
theatre;  the  other  occupied  the  Hotel  de  Bour- 
gogne, which  it  had  derived  in  1588  from  the  old 
Fraternities  of  the  Passion,  who  had  erected  it  in 
1 548  for  the  performance  of  the  mysteries  and  farces 
which  were  then  the  only  form  of  drama. 

Moliere's  company,  established  at  the  Palais 
Royal,  quickly  surpassed  in  popular  favor  the  Ma- 
rais company ;  but  between  it  and  the  Hotel  de 
Bourgogne  there  was  bitter  rivalry.  The  latter 
contained  the  best  tragic  actors ;  it  was  the  elder, 
and  it  was  the  Royal  Company.  Moliere's  company 
was  only  the  King's  Company.  Although  it  ex- 
celled easily  in  comedy,  there  seems  now  to  be  but 
little  doubt  that  the  elder  theatre  was  generally 
considered  the  better.  After  Moliere's  death,  in 
1673,  the  Marais  company  united  with  his  com- 
panions, and  the  rivalry  continued — to  the  great 
disadvantage  of  the  newly  combined  companies. 
Moliere's  company  had  of  course  acted  all  his 
comedies,  and  the  Marais  company  had  produced 
most  of  Corneille's;  but,  in  spite  of  this  record,  the 
Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  headed  by  Mile.  Champsmele, 
who  had  acted  the  heroines  of  most  of  Racine's 
tragedies,  seemed  likely  to  run  its  rival  out  of  the 
field.  But  some  internal  dissension  caused  the 
secession  of  Mile.  Champsmel6  and  her  husband, 
who  joined  the  combined  company  of  Moliere's 
companions  and  the  actors  of  the  Marais.  Shortly 


The  Comc'die-Fran^aise.  73 

afterward,  in  1680,  the  King  arbitrarily  decreed  the 
union  of  the  survivors  of  all  three  companies  into 
one,  and  created  thus  by  a  simple  royal  decree  the 
Comedie-Frangais,  which  still  flourishes  after  a  life 
of  now  two  centuries.  It  is  almost  the  only  in- 
stitution of  royal  France  which  survived  the  Revo- 
lution. Since  it  came  into  existence  it  has  had  no 
real  rival ;  it  has  been  always  first  in  tragedy  and 
first  in  comedy.  Upon  its  boards  nine  out  of  ten 
of  the  great  actors  and  actresses  of  the  past  two 
hundred  years  have  played  their  parts.  Upon  its 
stage  most  of  the  best  specimens  of  French  dra- 
matic literature  have  seen  the  light  of  the  lamps  for 
the  first  time. 

To  find  any  parallel  for  the  career  of  the  Com£- 
die-Frangaise  in  our  language  and  literature  we 
should  have  to  rely  on  the  imagination.  If  the 
Globe  Theatre  had  been  worthily  maintained  from 
Shakespeare's  death  until  now;  if  the  best  works  of 
Shirley  and  Congreve  and  Farquhar  and  Sheridan 
and  Goldsmith  had  been  written  for  it ;  if  Barton 
Booth~and  Garrick  and  Siddons  and  Kemble  and 
Kean  had  appeared  on  its  stage ;  if  our  memory 
connected  it  with  every  masterpiece  of  dramatic 
writing  and  acting — then  we  might  form  some  idea 
of  the  position  held  in  Paris  by  the  Comedie-Fran- 
caise. 

Its  influence  upon  the  art  of  acting  has  been 
healthy,  for  although  it  has  again  and  again  con- 


74  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

tained  actors  of  extraordinary  merit,  its  aim  has 
always  been  to  present  a  play  well  performed 
throughout,  and  never  to  sacrifice  the  whole  to  a 
part,  however  brilliant  the  part  might  be.  It  has 
•always  been — to  use  the  theatrical  terms  of  to-day 
— a  stock  company,  but  a  stock  company  generally 
having  among  its  members  half  a  dozen  stars,  and 
stars  sometimes  of  extraordinary  brilliancy.  Adri- 
enne  Lecouvreur  (whose  career  has  since  been 
taken  as  the  basis  of  a  play  produced  at  this  very 
theatre,  with  an  actress  quite  her  equal  in  the  he- 
roine's part);  Lekain,  the  friend  of  Garrick  ;  Talma, 
the  friend  of  Kemble  and  the  familiar  of  the  great 
Napoleon ;  Mademoiselle  Mars,  the  heroine  of  the 
earlier  plays  of  Victor  Hugo  and  Alexander  Dumas, 
and  last,  but  not  least,  Mademoiselle  Rachel,  whose 
rapid  rise  to  the  height  of  theatrical  success,  and 
whose  fatal  visit  to  this  country  are  well  remembered 
— all  these  were  members  of  the  Comedie-Francaise. 
It  was  the  last  of  them,  Rachel,  who  played,  as  only 
she  could  play,  the  touching  story  of  one  of  the 
first  of  them,  Adrienne  Lecouvreur. 

But  not  all  great  actors  have  belonged  to  it,  nor 
have  they  always,  if  they  have  formed  a  connection 
with  it,  succeeded  in  making  a  place  for  themselves. 
Frederick  Lemaitre,  in  some  respects  the  foremost 
actor  of  this  century,  failed  to  hold  his  own  at  the 
Frangais.  He  was  not  scholarly  enough,  and  he 
was  not  well  enough  schooled.  Nor  did  Mme. 


The  Come'die-Fran^aise.  75 

Dorval,  who  had  acted  with  him  again  and  again 
at  the  Porte  St.  Martin,  stay  at  the  Fran^ais  long, 
although  the  one  great  part  she  had,  she  played  with 
great  effect.  There  was  something  wanting  in  both 
of  them.  The  Theatre  Francais  required  a  classic 
refinement,  which  they,  accustomed  to  melodra- 
matic surroundings,  failed  entirely  to  convey.  The 
theatre  did  not  suit  them,  and  they  did  not  suit  the 
theatre.  But  although  a  few  bright  lights  of  the 
French  stage  of  to-day  do  not  shine  within  its  walls, 
never  at  any  time  in  its  history  has  the  theatre  had 
a  stronger  company  than  it  has  now.  Never  has  it 
been  able  to  present  tragedy,  or  comedy,  or  even 
farce,  with  fuller  effect  than  it  can  to-day. 

Not  only  in  actors,  but  in  authors  also,  has  the 
Theatre  Frangais  been  preeminent.  From  the 
three  companies  whose  union  called  it  into  exist- 
ence it  inherited  the  traditions  of  the  original  per- 
formers in  the  great  works  of  the  classic  period  of 
French  literature — the  comedies  and  tragedies  of 
Corneille,  Moliere,  and  Racine.  In  the  next  cen- 
tury if  brought  out  the  principal  plays  of  Voltaire 
and  of  his  rivals,  and  it  gave  a  hearing  to  the  two 
comedies  of  Beaumarchais,  the  "  Barber  of  Seville  " 
and  the  "  Marriage  of  Figaro."  During  the  Revo- 
lution and  under  the  Empire  dramatic  literature- 
slumbered,  and  indeed  caused  the  few  spectators  to 
slumber  also. 

But  with  the  Revolution  of  1830  came  the  ro- 


76  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

mantic  revival  which  brought  to  the  Theatre  Fran- 
$ais  many  of  the  best  dramas  of  M.  Victor  Hugo, 
of  the  elder  Dumas,  of  Casimir  Delavigne,  and  of 
Alfred  de  Vigny  (from  whose  fine  novel  "  Cinq 
Mars  "  Lord  Lytton  derived  parts  of  his  play  of 
"  Richelieu  ").  Within  the  past  thirty  years  the 
comedies  of  Alfred  de  Musset,  of  Eugene  Scribe, 
of  M.  Ernest  Legouve,  of  the  younger  M.  Dumas, 
and  of  M.  Emile  Augier — the  hardiest  and  healthiest 
of  all  modern  dramatists — have  in  great  part  been 
first  shown  to  the  public  by  the  Comedie-Fran^aise, 
or  have  been  appropriated  permanently  by  it  after 
having  been  successful  elsewhere.  It  is  a  principle 
with  it  to  take  to  itself  any  good  play  or  any  good 
player  who  seems  likely  to  suit  its  stage,  wherever 
he  or  she  or  it  may  be.  Many  a  play,  after  a  suc- 
cessful run  at  the  Odeon  Theatre  or  the  Gymnase 
Dramatique,  has  been  revived  at  the  Francais  with 
renewed  triumph.  Many  a  time  has  an  actor  who 
was  making  the  fortune  of  another  theatre  been 
taken  away  to  itself  by  the  long  arm  of  the  Come- 
die-Fran§aise,  aided  by  the  might  of  its  ancient 
privileges  and  prerogatives. 

The  laws  which  govern  the  Theatre  Francais 
are  not  to  be  found  clearly  stated  anywhere.  It  is, 
in  fact,  a  commonwealth — an  association  of  actors 
governing  itself,  with  a  Lord  Protector,  as  the  man- 
ager may  be  called,  appointed  by  the  national  au- 
thorities. As  the  nation  owns  the  building  of  the 


The  Comtdie-Fran^aise.  77 

Theatre,  which  it  gives  rent  free,  together  with  an 
annual  subsidy  of  about  fifty  thousand  dollars,  it  is 
no  wonder  that  it  claims  some  jurisdiction.  Under 
the  Bourbon  monarchies  it  claimed  even  more. 
The  gentlemen  of  the  royal  household  exercised 
supervision  over  the  royal  theatre,  and  managed  at 
various  times  to  do  a  deal  of  petty  mischief.  In 
1757,  the  rules  governing  the  theatre  were  codified 
in  forty  articles,  which  defined  the  rights  and  duties 
of  the  associated  actors  toward  each  other,  and 
toward  the  authors,  employes,  and  all  persons  with 
whom  they  were  connected  in  business. 

Napoleon  reconstructed  the  society  in  a  famous 
decree,  signed — characteristically  enough — in  1812, 
in  Moscow!  Other  decrees,  notably  those  of  1850 
and  1859,  have  modified  this  code,  and,  in  fact,  the 
Comedie-Franc,aise  is  now  governed  much  as  we 
are — by  the  common  law ;  by  a  host  of  old  cus- 
toms universally  respected.  The  associated  actors 
are  sharers  in  the  profits — a  custom  which  obtained 
in  the  time  of  Shakespeare  and  of  Moliere,  and 
which  is  not  without  its  effect  in  keeping  down 
professional  jealousy,  and  in  preventing  attempts 
at  professional  monopoly.  This  custom  the  The- 
atre Fran$ais  alone,  of  all  French  or  English  thea- 
tres, has  kept  up. 

A  committee  of  their  number  forms  a  sort  of 
cabinet  or  advisory  council  for  the  director.  Just 
what  are  the  powers  of  the  director  or  of  the  com- 


78  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

mittee,  if  they  should  clash,  it  is  impossible  to  say. 
In  general,  the  director,  if  he  is  shrewd,  and  espe- 
cially if  he  is  successful,  does  about  what  he  pleases. 
The  present  manager,  M.  Perrin,  has  been  very 
successful,  and  he  is  in  consequence  allowed  to 
carry  things  with  a  high  hand.  But  an  unsuccess- 
ful or  unpopular  director  would  probably  find  his 
movements  so  hampered  by  the  committee  and  by 
the  other  associates  that  his  resignation  would  be 
the  only  way  out  of  the  difficulty. 

A  young  graduate  of  the  Conservatory  (the  great 
national  training  school  of  actors  and  singers),  who 
has  taken  a  first  prize,  has  the  right  to  an  appear- 
ance on  the  stage  of  the  Theatre  Francais.  He  is 
engaged  at  a  salary  by  the  year.  If  in  time  he 
should  show  marked  ability,  and  give  promise  of 
becoming  capable  one  day  of  playing  the  best  parts 
in  his  line  of  business,  he  may  be  elected  an  asso- 
ciate— that  is,  a  sharer  in  the  management,  in  the 
profits,  and  in  the  responsibilities  of  the  enterprise. 
The  associates,  who  now  number  twenty-four,  fill 
by  election  the  vacancies  in  their  ranks  caused  by 
retirement  or  death.  The  fair  sex  has  here  equal 
rights;  the  ladies  vote,  and  are  voted  for;  more  than 
once  has  a  majority  of  the  associates  been  ladies. 

But  there  are  always  more  sharers  than  there  are 
shares :  there  are  now  twenty-four  Socictaires,  while 
there  are  never  twenty  shares  available  for  this  pur- 
pose. The  young  actor  or  actress  begins,  there- 


M.     COQUELIN 


The  Come'die-Franqaise.  79 

fore,  with  an  eighth  or  a  quarter  of  a  share,  rising 
gradually,  as  his  value  to  the  theatre  increases  and 
vacancies  are  made  by  death  or  resignation,  to  a 
half,  and  finally  to  a  whole  share.  M.  Coquelin, 
the  brilliant  comic  actor,  was  an  associate  for  five 
years  before  he  had  a  full  share.  Since  M.  Perrin 
has  been  the  director  of  the  theatre,  the  yearly  yield 
of  a  share  has  been  rapidly  rising;  in  1878  each  full 
share  paid  a  profit  of  forty  thousand  francs.  As, 
however,  the  theatre  may  not  make  money,  and 
the  shares  may  be  of  no  value  whatsoever,  each  as- 
sociate gets  an  annual  salary  proportionate  to  his 
merits,  but  much  smaller  than  he  would  receive 
elsewhere.  After  a  certain  number  of  years  of  ser- 
vice, he  may  retire  on  a  pension,  varying  in  amount 
as  he  may  have  been  of  more  or  less  value  to  the 
company.  There  are  nearly  always  half  a  dozen 
valetudinarian  actors  and  actresses  living  calmly 
and  comfortably  on  the  pension  paid  them  by  their 
younger  comrades,  as  they  themselves  have  once 
earned  pensions  for  their  elders.  Certain  of  the 
profits' are  diverted  each  year  to  accumulate  for  the 
benefit  of  the  associate  when  he  retires ;  M.  Bres- 
sant,  for  instance,  when  he  withdrew  from  active 
service,  received  a  lump-sum  of  eighty  thousand 
francs,  and  is  receiving  an  annual  pension  of  eight 
or  ten  thousand  more.  Of  course,  the  chance  of 
profit  is  increased  by  the  fact  that  the  society,  as 
I  have  said  before,  has  its  theatre  from  the  gov- 


80  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

ernment  rent  free ;  and  its  pensions  are  made  cer- 
tain by  the  ample  government  subsidy  and  by 
slowly-accumulated  reserve  funds. 

The  duties  of  the  stage  manager  are  divided 
among  certain  of  the  elder  male  associates,  who  as- 
sume them  in  turn  for  a  week  at  a  time ;  and  for 
thus  acting  as  semainier  they  get  additional  allow- 
ances. The  task  of  these  temporary  stage  man- 
agers is  no  light  one.  They  are  responsible  for  the 
acting.  The  routine  duties  of  the  position  are  dis- 
charged by  a  permanent  official.  In  old  plays  the 
semainiers — to  use  the  almost  untranslatable  French 
name — instruct  the  minor  actors  in  the  traditions 
of  their  parts,  regulate  all  positions  and  bits  of 
"  business,"  and  discuss  thoroughly  what  shall  be 
done.  In  modern  plays  they  share  this  work  with 
the  author.  For  an  important  play  there  are  some- 
times as  many  as  eighty  rehearsals. 

Besides  his  salary  (and  independent  of  his  share  of 
the  possible  annual  profit,  if  he  be  an  associate) 
each  actor  is  paid  a  certain  small  sum  every  time  he 
acts;  thus  the  most  useful  and  the  most  industrious 
are  better  paid  than  the  lazy  and  less  competent, 
and  thus,  too,  the  actor  hesitates  before  refusing 
even  an  inferior  part  in  a  play  which  may  be  acted 
numberless  times.  In  English  and  American  the- 
atres an  actor  is  justified  in  refusing  to  play  an 
unimportant  part,  as  the  public,  seeing  him  in  it 
night  after  night  for  perhaps  six  months,  may  forget 


The  Come"die-Fran$aise.  81 

that  he  is  capable  of  better  things ;  but  at  the  Fran- 
gais  the  same  piece  is  rarely  played  on  two  succes- 
sive evenings,  and  never  on  three,  and  the  actor  who 
plays  a  poor  part  to-night  knows  that  the  next  night 
he  may  have  a  better,  or  perhaps  the  best.  This 
feeling  leads  to  a  generally  higher  level  of  acting ;  it 
gets  more  good  players  into  one  piece  than  is  often 
possible  with  us. 

At  the  Theatre  Fran£ais  (to  quote  from  a  most 
instructive  article  which  M.  Sarcey  contributed  to 
the  English  review,  The  Nineteenth  Century,  last 
summer)  "the  most  insignificant  parts  are  filled,  if 
not  by  first-class  actors,  at  least  by  persons  who 
have  already  studied  long  and  know  their  business. 
In  plays  like  'Hernani'  and  'Mademoiselle  de 
Belle  Isle,'  for  instance,  there  are  a  certain  number 
of  very  secondary  personages,  some  of  whom  have 
but  a  few  words  to  utter,  while  others  say  nothing 
at  all.  These  obscure  parts,  instead  of  being  given 
up  to  common  supernumeraries  engaged  for  the 
night,  are  filled  either  by  young  actors  who  have 
their  trial  to  go  through,  or  by  old  actors  who  have 
no  other  talent  but  their  perfect  knowledge  of  the 
boards — in  short,  by  actors  who  form  part  of  the 
company,  and  who  are  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  traditions  and  manners  of  the  house." 

The  influence  of  the  pernicious  "  star  system  "  is 
so  strong  with  us  in  America  and  in  England  that 
the  London  papers,  commenting  on  the  perform- 

6 


82  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

ances  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise  in  London  during 
the  summer  of  1879,  again  and  again  spoke  of  Mile. 
Sarah-Bernhardt  as  the  "  leading  lady,"  and  of  M. 
Febvre  or  M.  Mounet-Sully  appearing  "  in  support " 
of  her.  No  terms  could  well  be  less  exact.  Mile. 
Bernhardt  is  not  a  superior,  therefore  her  comrades 
do  not  appear  "  in  support ; "  she  is  not  even  the 
leading  lady:  she  is  simply  an  associate  of  the 
Comedie-Francaise. 

On  the  playbills  the  names  of  the  actors  always 
appear  in  the  order  of  their  election  as  associ- 
ates, the  salaried  actors  following  their  seniors ; 
in  "  Ruy  Bias,"  for  instance,  the  name  of  Mile. 
Bernhardt,  who  plays  the  Queen,  is  preceded  by 
that  of  Mile.  Jouassain,  who  acts  the  far  less  im- 
portant part  of  the  Duenna,  because  Mile.  Jouas- 
sain was  elected  an  associate  in  1863,  and  so  is  the 
senior  of  Mile.  Bernhardt,  elected  in  1875.  There 
are  no  stars  at  the  Theatre  Frangais,  partly  be- 
cause the  associates  are  all  "  stars,"  and  partly  be- 
cause any  individual  prominence  would  break  up 
the  artistic  unity  which  is  the  great  beauty  of  the 
present  organization.  Rachel  in  her  day  was  a 
"  star,"'  and  the  experience  then  gained  will  keep 
the  Theatre  Frangais  from  ever  repeating  it.  As 
M.  Sarcey  says :  "  Rachel  cost  the  theatre  more 
than  she  ever  drew,  and  she  did  more  harm  to  art 
than  she  rendered  it  service.  .  .  .  The  nights 
on  which  she  played,  the  receipts  amounted  to 


The  Comtdie-Frangaise.  83 

10,000  francs,  the  whole  of  which  went  into  her 
pocket.  The  next  night  the  theatre  was  empty." 
On  one  occasion,  when  the  bill  contained  "  Tartufe  " 
and  the  "  Legacy,"  the  masterpieces  of  Moliere  and 
Marivaux,  the  receipts  were  only  sixty-seven  francs. 
M.  d'Heylli  in  his  instructive  "Journal  Intime  de 
la  Comedie-Frangaise,"  gives  us  the  annual  gross 
receipts  of  the  theatre  for  the  past  thirty  years. 
While  Rachel  acted  they  varied  from  about  300,000 
francs  to  900,000  (in  1855,  the  Exhibition  year); 
from  her  death  in  1858  to  the  war  of  1870  they 
never  fell  below  800,000 ;  after  the  war  and  the 
Commune  they  jumped  to  1,262,000  in  1872,  and 
rose  steadily  to  1,580,000  in  1877. 

It  will  readily  be  seen  that  an  institution  as  con- 
servative as  the  Theatre  Frangais  is  likely  to  take 
little  initiative  in  bringing  out  new  authors.  Its 
function  is  not  to  discover  new  dramatists  and  lead 
in  dramatic  progress,  but  to  consecrate  and  reward 
acknowledged  merit.  Many  of  the  plays  which  it 
now  presents  with  great  success  were  originally 
produced  at  other  theatres — among  them  are  the 
"Cigue"  and  the  "  Gendre  de  M.  Poirier"  of  M. 
Augier,  and  the  "  Demi-Monde  "  and  "  Fils  Natu- 
rel  "  of  M.  Dumas.  These  and  many  other  plays 
of  a  literary  character  won  success  elsewhere,  a 
success  which  the  Theatre  Frangais  ratifies  by  tak- 
ing them  to  itself.  Its  company  is  so  much  stronger 
than  that  of  any  other  theatre  of  Paris,  or  even  of 


84  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

any  two  others,  that  it  is  sure  to  act  the  piece  better 
than  it  was  originally  acted. 

It  aims  at  a  perfect  performance  of  the  master- 
pieces of  French  dramatic  literature,  old  and  new. 
Until  1867  the  Theatre  Fran£ais  had  the  exclusive 
right  of  presenting  the  classic  drama,  comic  and 
tragic.  The  best  plays  of  Moliere,  Racine,  Cor- 
neille,  and  Beaumarchais  are  always  in  readiness, 
and  are  frequently  performed.  As  the  bill  is 
changed  nightly,  a  week  rarely  passes  without  one 
or  more  opportunities  of  seeing  one  of  the  classics 
(either  light  or  heavy)  of  the  French  stage.  A 
successful  new  play,  like  M.  Augier's  "  Fourcham- 
bault  "  or  M.  Dumas's  "  Etrangere,"  is  acted  at  first 
three  or  four  times  a  week ;  then,  as  its  attraction 
lessens,  it  is  seen  but  twice,  or  even  once  a  week. 
It  does  not  finally  drop  out  of  the  bill  sometimes 
for  two  or  three  years,  and  it  may  then  at  any  time 
be  revived  for  another  series  of  performances.  It 
takes  much  longer  for  a  play  to  attain  its  hundredth 
performance  at  the  Fran^ais  than  elsewhere.  But 
a  good  play  there  is  above  the  chances  of  ill-luck, 
sickness  of  an  actor,  temporary  lack  of  public  inter- 
est, and  so  on,  which  beset  it  at  other  theatres.  As 
the  new  play  alternates  with  the  play  of  last  year, 
and  of  the  year  before,  and  as  these  alternate  with 
the  plays  of  two  centuries  ago,  standards  of  com- 
parison are  supplied,  and  it  is  easier  to  judge  apiece 
at  its  true  value.  The  Theatre  Fran$ais  is,  in  fact, 


The  ComSdie-Frangaise.  85 

a  museum  of  dramatic  art,  and  as  such  it  is  fostered 
by  the  government.  The  subsidy  is  intended  es- 
pecially to  provide  for  the  proper  performance  of 
the  classic  drama,  which  has  rarely  been  able  to 
attract  paying  audiences.  But  the  present  director, 
M.  Perrin,  has  been  skilful  enough  to  make  Moliere 
and  Racine  fashionable,  and  therefore  as  profitable 
as  the  latest  new  work  of  M.  Augier  or  M.  Dumas. 
Here  is  the  roll  of  the  twenty-three  associates  of 
the  Come"  die-Fran£aise,  with  the  date  of  the  election 
of  each  one  to  the  enviable  dignity : 

MM.  Got (1850). 

Delaunay (1850). 

Maubant (1852). 

C.  Coquelin (1864). 

F.  Febvre (1867). 

Thiron (1872). 

Mounet-Sully (1874). 

Laroche (1875). 

Barre (1876). 

Worms (1878). 

E.  Coquelin (1878). 

Mmes.  Madeleine  Brohan (1852). 

Favart (1854). 

Jouassain ( 1 863). 

Edile  Riquier (1864). 

Provost-Ponsin (1867). 

Dinah  Felix (1870). 


86  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

Mmes.  Reichemberg  . (1872). 

Croizette ( 1 873 ). 

Sarah-Bernhardt (l875)- 

Barretta (i  876). 

Broisat (1877). 

Jeanne  Samary (1878). 

Bartet (1880). 

Besides  these  twenty-four  associates  there  are 
sixteen  salaried  actors  and  eleven  salaried  actresses. 

A  glance  at  this  list  shows  us  that  M.  Got,  the 
dean  of  the  associates  of  the  Comedie-Franc.aise, 
attained  that  dignity  nearly  the  third  of  a  century 
ago ;  and  when  we  remember  that  he  had  served 
several  years  as  a  salaried  actor  before  his  election 
as  an  associate,  we  recall  the  question  asked  by  M. 
Sarcey  in  the  article  from  which  quotation  has 
already  .been  made  : 

"  Do  you  know  that  between  Got  and  Moliere 
there  are  only  seven  or  eight  names  of  great  actors  ? 
We  have,  so  to  speak,  only  to  stretch  out  our  hand  to 
be  able,  across  several  generations,  to  find  the  first 
Mascarille.  Got  played  a  long  time  with  Monrose, 
who  had  seen  Dazincourt.  Dazincourt  appeared 
young  by  the  side  of  Preville,  already  old.  Preville 
had  known  Poisson,  who  is  the  last  link  of  the  chain 
up  to  Moliere.  In  this  way  the  tradition  has  been 
preserved  alive  from  one  great  actor  to  another. 
One  feels  how  such  or  such  a  role  was  played  in  the 


The  Comtdie-Franqaise.  87 

days  of  Moliere,  and  when  by  chance  the  interpre- 
tation is  changed  by  the  caprice  of  an  actor,  as 
happened  in  the  case  of  Arnolphe,  whose  character 
was  modified  by  the  elder  Provost,  that  change 
forms  a  date,  and  the  new  tradition  is  established, 
unless  the  successors  of  Provost  reject  it.  Here  we 
see  the  distinctive  mark  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise, 
which  unites  to  tradition  a  wise  spirit  of  innovation 
that  corrects  and  harmonizes  it  to  the  tastes  of  the 
day,  but  at  the  same  time,  out  of  respect  for  tradi- 
tion, it  always  puts  the  bridle  on  this  taste  for 
novelty.  The  history  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise  is 
only  a  perpetual  compromise  between  these  two 
contrary  forces." 

Just  how  much  the  old  and  the  new  are  repre- 
sented on  the  boards  of  the  Theatre  Fran9ais  can 
be  seen  by  a  few  figures  taken  from  the  beautiful 
little  dramatic  annual  the  "  Almanach  des  Specta- 
cles." During  the  year  1878,  the  latest  for  which 
we  as  yet  have  the  statistics,  fourteen  plays  of 
Moliere  were  acted  in  all  seventy- seven  times. 
Racirte  followed  with  five  plays  and  twenty-four 
performances,  and  Corneille  with  four  plays  and 
fourteen  performances.  Five  other  classic  plays, 
by  Regnard,  Marivaux,  Voltaire,  and  Beaumar- 
chais,  were  acted  in  all  twenty-eight  times. 

Only  one  new  modern  play  was  brought  out — 
the  "  Fourchambault "  of  M.  Emile  Augier.  A 
formal  revival  was  made  of  M.  Dumas's  "  Natural 


88  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

Son,"  hitherto  acted  at  the  Gymnase.  Besides 
these  two  novelties,  thirty-eight  other  plays,  by 
thirty-three  different  modern  authors,  were  acted 
on  the  stage  of  the  Theatre  Francais.  Twenty- 
three  of  the  pieces  performed  during  the  year  were 
in  five  acts,  and  twenty-one  had  but  one  act. 

This  record  is  not  wanting  in  variety;  and  when 
we  remember  that  every  play  was  acted  as  well  as 
may  be,  and  not  in  any  way  slighted,  we  may 
acknowledge  that  it  is  a  record  worthy  of  the 
Comedie-Francaise,  and  one  which  the  Comedie- 
Fran^aise  alone  is  capable  of  acquiring. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  ACTRESSES  OF  THE   COMEDIE-FRANC.AISE. 

WITHIN  the  past  fifty  years  three  great  actresses 
— great  indeed  in  different  ways — have  crossed  the 
stage  of  the  Theatre  Frangais,  leaving  a  trail  of 
glory  behind  them.  The  first  was  Mile.  Mars,  who 
was  almost  equally  at  home  in  comedy,  or  tragedy, 
or  drama.  Of  her,  M.-  Legouve,  the  author  of 
"  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,"  tells  an  anecdote  which 
sets  her  artistic  skill  in  a  strong  light.  One  morn- 
ing, at  a  rehearsal  of  "  Louise  de  Lignerolles,"  one 
of  M.  Legouve's  earliest  successes,  in  which  she 
was  to  "  create "  the  part  of  the  heroine,  she 
seemed  tired  and  indisposed  to  exert  herself.  In 
the  second  act  she  had  a  scene  which  needed 
great  energy,  and  M.  Legouve  noted  that  she 
"  rehearsed  it  without  letting  out  her  voice,  mak- 
ing indeed  hardly  any  gestures,  and  yet  all  the 
effects,  all  the  intentions,  all  the  shades  of  senti- 
ment were  expressed  and  visible.  It  was  like  a  pic- 
ture seen  from  afar,  or  like  music  heard  at  a  dis- 
tance. It  suggested  a  pastel,  slightly  faded  by 
time,  but,  in  which  every  tone  keeps  its  exact 
shade,  every  form  holds  its  exact  value,  and  every- 
thing, in  short,  was  complete  in  proper  proportion. 


90  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

The  little  event  was  for  me  a  revelation.  I  under- 
stood upon  what  a  fixed  basis  the  art  of  speech 
(diction)  was  founded,  since  a  great  artist  could  ex- 
tinguish, if  I  may  hazard  the  word,  her  personage, 
without  making  it  lose  anything  in  its  proportions, 
in  its  ensemble,  or  in  its  relief." 

Great  exertion  is  not  only  unnecessary  but  inju- 
rious, as  the  speaker  or  reader,  when  once  tired,  has 
no  reserve  of  strength  at  the  moment  when  per- 
haps it  is  most  needed.  Talma,  says  M.  Legouve, 
condensed  this  into  one  striking  maxim  :  An  artist 
who  fatigues  himself  is  mediocre.  How  not  to 
fatigue  himself  was  only  discovered  by  Talma  after 
protracted  experiment  and  infinite  labor.  A  really 
great  artist,  indeed,  rarely  shrinks  from  labor,  how- 
ever long.  M.  Legouve  relates  that  he  and  Rachel, 
who  was  the  second  of  these  three  great  actresses, 
once  spent  three  hours  toiling  over  one  line  in  this 
same  "  Louise  de  Lignerolles,"  in  which  Rachel  was 
to  follow,  and  hoped  to  surpass,  her  predecessor. 

Rachel  was  not  always  so  careful,  or  rather,  hav- 
ing once  mastered  her  parts,  she  was  almost  care- 
less at  times.  Toward  the  end  of  her  career,  as 
Mr.  Lewes  informs  us,  she  "  played  her  parts  as  if 
only  in  a  hurry  to  get  through  them,  flashing  out 
now  and  then  with  tremendous  power,  just  to  show 
what  she  could  do  ;  and  resembling  Kean  in  the 
sacrifice  of  the  character  to  a  few  points."  In 
another  part  of  his  admirable  little  book  on  acting, 


The  Actresses  of  the  Comtdie-Francaise,      91 

Mr.  Lewes  paid  this  tribute  to  the  genius  of  the 
actress  :  "  Rachel  was  the  panther  of  the  stage  ; 
with  a  panther's  terrible  beauty  and  undulating 
grace  she  moved  and  stood,  glared  and  sprang. 
There  always  seemed  something  not  human  about 
her.  She  seemed  made  of  different  clay  from  her 
fellows  —  beautiful  but  not  lovable.  Those  who 
never  saw  Edmund  Kean  may  form  a  very  good 
conception  of  him  if  they  have  seen  Rachel.  She 
was  very  much  as  a  woman  what  he  was  as  a  man. 
If  he  was  a  lion,  she  was  a  panther." 

Both  Mile.  Mars  and  Mile.  Rachel  are  dead  ;  the 
third  artist  is  Mme.  Arnould-Plessy,  who  is  alive, 
although  recently  she  has  retired  from  the  stage. 
She  was  the  most  polished  and  consummate  of  all 
actresses  of  comedy.  As  far  as  one  may  venture 
such  a  comparison,  she  must  have  resembled  in 
style  Mrs.  Abington,  who  was  the  original  Lady 
Teazle.  But  not  content  with  her  comedy  triumphs, 
she  chose  one  day  to  play  Agrippina  in  Racine's 
tragedy  "  Britannicus."  "  I  shall  not  say,"  wrote 
M.  Sarcey  in  his  next  Monday's  criticism,  "  that 
Madame  Plessy  is  mediocre.  With  her  intelligence, 
with  her  natural  gifts,  with  her  immense  authority 
over  the  public,  she  could  not  in  any  way  be  me- 
diocre. She  is  not  therefore  mediocrely  bad.  She 
is  bad  to  an  inexpressible  degree."  He  then  pro- 
ceeded to  prove  his  assertion.  A  few  days  later, 
finding  Madame  Plessy  at  a  friend's  house,  he  con- 


92  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

cealed  himself  as  best  he  could,  but  she  came 
straight  to  him,  holding  out  her  hand,  while  she 
smiled  like  a  heroine  of  Marivaux.  "  You  are 
right,"  she  said ;  "  you  might  have  told  the  truth 
more  amiably,  but  it  was  the  truth.  My  friends 
and  I  were  wrong,  and  I  shall  not  again  risk  my- 
self in  a  tragic  part.  I  thank  you."  And,  with  a 
grand  courtesy,  she  left  him  stupefied,  for  never  in 
his  twenty  years'  practice  as  a  critic  had  he  had 
such  an  experience. 

There  are  no  actresses  now  at  the  Theatre  Fran- 
^ais  of  the  value  of  Mile.  Mars,  Mile.  Rachel,  or 
Mme.  Plessy.  But  the  company  at  present  contains 
two  actresses  who,  whatever  their  artistic  merits 
may  be,  are  at  least  celebrities  almost  as  famous  as 
any  one  of  their  three  great  predecessors.  These 
two  ladies  are  Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt,  and  Mile. 
Sophie  Croizette. 

When  Edwin  Forrest  was  in  Europe,  in  1834  and 
1835,  he  was  called  upon  by  the  manager  of  a  Paris 
theatre  to  give  his  opinion  of  an  actor  of  whom  the 
manager  had  great  hopes.  Forrest  attended  the 
performance,  and  told  the  manager  afterward  that 
the  actor  could  never  rise  above  respectable  medi- 
ocrity. "But  that  Jewish-looking  girl,"  he  added, 
"  that  little  bag  of  bones,  with  the  marble  face  and 
the  flaming  eyes — there  is  demoniacal  power  in  her. 
If  she  lives,  and  does  not  burn  out  too  soon,  she 
will  become  something  wonderful."  The  prediction 


MLLE.     SARAH-BERNHARDT 


The  Actresses  of  the  Come'die-Frangaise.      93 

was  fulfilled,  for  the  Jewish-looking  girl,  the  little 
bag  of  bones,  was  afterward  known  to  the  whole 
world  as  Rachel.  For  years  after  the  death  of 
Mile.  Rachel,  there  was  no  one  to  take  her  place  at 
the  Theatre  Frangais  ;  there  was  no  one  to  breathe 
into  the  hollow  masks  of  French  tragedy  the  breath 
of  life,  and  to  animate  them  into  existence  by  the 
might  of  her  genius.  For  years  her  place  was 
vacant. 

But  within  the  past  few  years  an  aspirant  has 
presented  herself,  whose  claim  for  the  honor  is 
allowed  by  some  of  the  most  enlightened  critics. 
The  new-comer  is  also  a  little  bag  of  bones,  and 
has  a  Jewish-looking  face.  Like  Rachel,  Mile. 
Sarah-Bernhardt  is  a  Jewess.  Her  mother  was  of 
Dutch  birth  ;  her  father  was  a  Frenchman.  She 
was  educated  in  a  convent,  whence  she  was  four 
times  expelled  for  the  trifles  there  regarded  as 
mortal  sins.  It  was  only  the  tears  and  the  singu- 
lar charm  of  the  child  which  conquered  the  hearts 
of  the  gentle  sisters,  and  opened  to  her  again  and 
again  the  doors  of  the  convent,  which  she  finally 
left  with  many  a  prize.  Once  outside  its  walls  and 
able  to  think  of  her  future,  she  declared  passion- 
ately her  intention  of  being  a  nun — "  unless,"  she 
added,  after  a  second's  pause,  "  unless  I  am  an 
actress." 

They  sent  her  to  the  Conservatory.  In  due 
course  of  time  she  was  graduated,  and  was  engaged 


94  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

at  the  Theatre  Francois.  Here  it  was  the  usual 
story :  there  were  but  few  parts  for  the  beginner  to 
make  any  impression  on  the  public.  Added  to 
which,  the  impression  made  on  the  players  by  this 
reckless  and  restless  personality  was  not  altogether 
favorable ;  and  when  at  last,  for  some  good  reason 
or  other,  she  slapped  the  face  of  an  associate — and 
an  associate,  too,  of  the  fair  and  unforgiving  sex — 
it  was  high  time  for  her  to  leave  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise,  and  she  left  it.  After  wandering  here 
and  there,  even  playing  for  a  while  in  a  spectacular 
play  at  the  Porte  St.  Martin  Theatre,  she  at  last 
made  an  engagement  at  the  Odeon  Theatre,  an  es- 
tablishment fostered  by  the  government,  partly  as 
a  nursery  for  the  Theatre  Fran£ais.  There  she  first 
appeared  in  1867,  and  there  she  remained,  playing 
parts  of  increasing  importance,  until,  in  1872,  she 
was  again  engaged  at  the  Theatre  Francois,  to 
which  she  returned  surrounded  by  a  halo  of  eccen- 
tricity, and  the  heroine  of  a  thousand  anecdotes, 
few  of  them  authentic,  it  may  be,  and  all  of  them 
questionable. 

She  entered  the  theatre  under  protest,  as  it  were, 
and  at  first  failed.  She  had  against  her  the  regular 
supporters  of  the  theatre,  who  regarded  her  eccen- 
tricities as  but  devices  for  notoriety,  and  she  had 
few  friends  behind  the  curtain.  But  she  fought 
her  own  battles,  acting  up  to  the  motto — "  Quand- 
meme"  Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt,  like  Rachel,  con- 


The  Actresses  of  the  Come'die-Fran^aise.       95 

sumed  by  an  inward  fire,  like  Rachel  again,  believed 
in  herself.  And  in  time  her  turn  came.  In  the 
"  Sphinx,"  in  which  Mile.  Croizette  played  the  vi- 
cious heroine,  and  made  the  judicious  grieve  by  her 


SARAH-BERNHARDT   (SKETCHED   BY    HERSELF). 

unduly  sensational,  not  to  say  horrible,  death  scene, 
Mile.  Bernhardt  played  suffering  and  forgiving  vir- 
tue ;  and,  in  the  eyes  of  some  judges,  the  real 
triumph  of  the  evening  was  hers. 


96  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

Her  reputation  began  to  grow  rapidly.  The  for- 
tunate revival  of  various  tragedies,  notably  the 
"  Zaire  "  of  Voltaire,  gave  her  opportunities  of  which 
she  made  the  most.  She  gave  to  tragedy  a  fire  and 
a  fervor  to  which  it  had  been  unused  since  Rachel 
had  doffed  the  mantle  of  Melpomene.  At  last  she 
dared  even  the  memory  of  her  great  predecessor, 
and,  as  the  Pttidre  of  Racine — perhaps  the  great- 
est of  Rachel's  great  parts — she  did  not  fail ;  in  the 
opinion  of  a  few  of  the  young  critics  she  even  suc- 
ceeded. The  part,  hard  and  trying,  was  doubly  hard 
for  so  feeble  an  organization,  debilitated  by  constant 
sickness.  Dominating  her  weak  body  by  sheer 
force  of  will,  although  she  may  spit  blood  and  faint 
after  each  act,  as  she  has  done  again  and  again,  she 
never  gives  in. 

After  "  Phedre "  and  "  Zai're  "  came  two  new 
tragedies,  the  "  Fille  de  Roland,"  and  "  Rome  Vain- 
cue,"  in  each  of  which  she  bore  off  the  honors. 
And  in  M.  Dumas's  "Etrangere"  she  again  found 
herself  face  to  face  with  Mile.  Croizette,  and  at 
first  she  again  carried  off  the  crown  of  victory ;  but 
as  the  play  ran  its  due  course  Mile.  Croizette  stead- 
ily improved  on  her  first  performance,  which  was  at 
times  careless.  In  one  respect  nature  has  favored 
Mile.  Bernhardt  more  than  Mile.  Croizette.  She 
is  slight  and  slim  of  figure,  while  her  competitor 
is  rapidly  becoming  portly,  and  is  even  now  of 
ample  rotundity.  A  thin  figure  is  ever  more  poetic 


The  Actresses  of  the  Come"die-Fran$aise.      97 

than  a  stout  one ;  and  Mile.  Bernhardt  is  thin  be- 
yond all  peradventure.  She  is  indeed  of  such 
immaterial  thinness  that  her  attenuated  figure  is  a 
stock  subject  for  the  professional  jesters  of  Paris. 

It  is  said,  for  instance,  that  she  once  escaped  from 
robbers  by  hiding  behind  her  riding-whip.  It  is 
said  again,  that,  in  her  early  career,  a  manager  re- 
fused to  engage  her,  alleging  that  he  would  not 
have  in  his  theatre  a  woman  who  could  enter  his 
office  through  the  keyhole.  It  is  said,  also,  that 
when  a  picture  of  her,  by  M.  Clairin,  showing  a 
noble  hound  reclining  at  her  feet,  was  shown  in  the 
annual  exhibition,  M.  Dumas,  glancing  at  it,  re- 
marked, "  I  see — a  dog  and  a  bone !  "  But  the  ut- 
most height  to  which  this  rather  thin  wit  has  gone 
as  yet  is  the  assertion  that  one  evening  an  empty 
carriage  drove  up  to  the  Theatre  Francais  and 
Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt  alighted  from  it. 

In  tragedy,  and  in  the  romantic  heroines  of  the 
poetic  drama,  robed  in  the  flowing  and  floating 
draperies  of  the  mediaeval  or  antique  heroines,  her 
long,  thjn  figure  gains  dignity.  It  is  in  tragedy, 
too,  that  the  marvellous  and  crystalline  purity  of  her 
voice  is  most  apparent.  The  unconscious  beauty  of 
her  silver  tones  lends  to  the  rhyming  Alexandrines 
of  French  tragedy  a  value  which  they  themselves 
do  not  always  deserve.  "  You  cannot  praise  her 
for  reciting  poetry  well,"  says  M.  Theodore  de 
Banville,  a  poet  learned  in  metres  and  rhythms ; 

7 


98  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

"  she  is  the  Muse  of  Poetry  itself.  A  secret  in- 
stinct moves  her.  She  recites  verse  as  the  night- 
ingale sings,  as  the  wind  sighs,  and  as  the  water 
murmurs." 

When  she  left  the  convent,  she  hesitated  between 
being  a  nun  or  an  actress.  When  she  was  at  last 
an  actress,  and  perhaps  the  most  notorious  in 
France,  she  suddenly  felt  that  she  had  missed  her 
vocation,  and  that  she  was  really  intended  for  a 
sculptor.  She  called  for  modelling  clay  and  the 
tools  of  the  trade  ;  she  took  a  few  lessons,  and  at 
the  annual  art  exhibitions  since,  she  has  exhibited 
various  pieces  of  sculpture  of  varying  merit — not 
as  amateurish  and  quite  as  startling  as  one  might 
expect.  Her  latest  attempt  was  a  statue  for  M. 
Garnier's  new  opera-house  at  Monaco,  which  that 
clear-sighted  architect  peremptorily  rejected.  She 
passes  all  her  days  in  her  studio  when  she  is  not 
rehearsing  or  riding  rapidly  on  horseback;  but 
already,  in  spite  of  her  success  as  a  sculptor,  has 
she  turned  her  ever-restless  intellect  to  the  sister 
art  of  painting. 

In  all  this  there  is  a  certain  savor  of  merely  mere- 
tricious sensationalism.  The  very  thinness  of  which 
Mile.  Bernhardt  complains  is  sometimes  exaggerat- 
ed wilfully  by  the  costume  she  chooses,  and  gloves 
too  full  are  deliberately  wrinkled  along  the  arms  to 
increase  the  attenuated  impression.  In  all  the 
recklessness  of  character,  in  the  sudden  freak  for 


The  Actresses  of  the  Come'die-Franqaise.       99 

sculpture  and  for  painting,  in  the  balloon  trips  de- 
scribed by  herself  at  length  in  a  volume  profusely 
illustrated  by  M.  Clairin,  in  the  hastily  dictated  ar- 
ticles contributed  to  newspapers,  in  the  eccentric 
caprices  which  give  rise  to  strange  tales  of  a  skele- 
ton in  her  studio,  and  of  a  coffin  in  which  she  sleeps, 
in  the  willingness  to  sacrifice  to  the  impulse  of  the 
moment  the  demands  of  art,  which  must  be  steadily 
sought  and  long  wooed  ere  it  be  won, — in  all  this 
there  is  evidence  of  conscious  self-advertisement, 
not  to  say  a  distinct  trace  of  charlatanry. 

This  unpleasant  flavor  was  most  prominent  dur- 
ing the  visit  of  the  Comedie-Fran^aise  to  London 
in  the  summer  of  1879.  ^n  a  letter,  written  from 
London  to  the  Nation,  by  an  American  writer,  whom 
one  cannot  but  suspect  to  be  the  critical  author  of 
"  Daisy  Miller,"  the  extraordinary  vogue  of  Mile. 
Bernhardt  in  the  English  capital  is  considered  with 
an  insight  as  keen  as  its  expression  is  charming. 

"  I  speak,"  says  this  writer,  "  of  her  '  vogue,'  for 
want  of  a  better  word ;  it  would  require  some  in- 
genuity-to  give  an  idea  of  the  intensity,  the  ecstasy, 
the  insanity,  as  some  people  would  say,  of  curiosity 
and  enthusiasm  provoked  by  Mile.  Bernhardt.  I 
spoke  just  now  of  topics,  and  what  they  were  worth 
in  the  London  system.  This  remarkable  actress 
has  filled  this  function  with  a  completeness  that 
leaves  nothing  to  be  desired  ;  her  success  has  been 
altogether  the  most  striking  and  curious,  although 


ioo  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

by  no  means,  I  think,  the  most  gratifying,  incident 
of  the  visit  of  the  Comedie.  It  has  not  been  the 
most  gratifying,  because  it  has  been  but  in  a  very 
moderate  degree  an  artistic  success.  It  has  been 
the  success  of  a  celebrity,  pure  and  simple,  and 
Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt  is  not,  to  my  sense,  a  celeb- 
rity because  she  is  an  artist.  She  is  a  celebrity 
because,  apparently,  she  desires,  with  an  intensity 
that  has  rarely  been  equalled,  to  be  one,  and  be- 
cause for  this  end  all  means  are  alike  to  her.  She 
may  flatter  herself  that,  as  regards  the  London 
public,  she  has  compassed  her  end  with  a  complete- 
ness which  makes  of  her  a  sort  of  fantastically  im- 
pertinent victrix  poised  upon  a  perfect  pyramid  of 
ruins — the  ruins  of  a  hundred  British  prejudices  and 
proprieties.  Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt  has  remarkable 
gifts  ;  her  success  is  something  quite  apart,  as  the 
woman  herself  is  something  quite  apart ;  but  her 
triumph  has  little  to  do  with  the  proper  lines  of  the 
Comedie-Frangaise.  She  is  a  child  of  her  age — of  her 
moment — and  she  has  known  how  to  profit  by  the 
idiosyncrasies  of  the  time.  The  trade  of  a  celebrity, 
pure  and  simple,  had  been  invented,  I  think,  before 
she  came  to  London ;  if  it  had  not  been,  it  is  cer- 
tain that  she  would  have  discovered  it.  She  has  in 
a  supreme  degree  what  the  French  call  \\\o.  gc'nie  de 
la  reclame — the  advertising  genius ;  she  may,  indeed, 
be  called  the  muse  of  the  newspaper.  Brilliantly 
as  she  had  already  exercised  her  genius,  her  visit  to 


The  Actresses  of  the  Come'die-Franqaisc.     101 

London  has  apparently  been  a  revelation  to  her  of 
the  great  extension  it  may  obtain  among  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  peoples." 

This  is  what  an  American  critic  thought  of  the 
woman.  What  an  English  critic  —  perhaps  the 
most  competent  in  his  country  to  discuss  French 
poetry,  French  drama,  or  French  acting — thought 
of  the  actress,  can  be  seen  from  this  short  extract 
from  the  very  suggestive  essay  which  Mr.  Matthew 
Arnold  wrote  upon  the  French  play  in  London : 

"  One  remark  I  will  make,"  writes  Mr.  Arnold, 
"  a  remark  suggested  by  the  inevitable  compari- 
son of  Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt  with  Rachel.  One 
talks  vaguely  of  genius,  but  I  had  never  till  now 
comprehended  how  much  of  Rachel's  superiority 
was  purely  in  intellectual  power,  how  eminently 
this  power  counts  in  the  actor's  art  as  in  all  art, 
how  just  is  the  instinct  which  led  the  Greeks  to 
mark  with  a  high  and  severe  stamp  the  Muses. 
Temperament  and  quick  intelligence,  passion,  ner- 
vous mobility,  grace,  smile,  voice,  charm,  poetry — 
Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt  has  them  all ;  one  watches 
her  with  pleasure,  with  admiration,  and  yet  not 
without  a  secret  disquietude.  Something  is  want- 
ing, or,  at  least,  not  present  in  sufficient  force  ;  some- 
thing which  alone  can  secure  and  fix  her  adminis- 
tration of  all  the  charming  gifts  which  she  has,  can 
alone  keep  them  fresh,  keep  them  sincere,  save 
them  from  perils  by  caprice,  perils  by  mannerism  ; 


IO2  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

that  something  is  high  intellectual  power.  It  was 
here  that  Rachel  was  so  great ;  she  began,  one  says 
to  oneself,  as  one  recalls  her  image  and  dwells  upon 
it — she  began  almost  where  Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt 
ends." 

The  personality  which  to  the  majority  of  stran- 
gers would  probably  now — after  Mile.  Sarah-Bernr 
hardt — be  the  most  interesting  in  the  company  of 
the  Theatre-Fran^aise  is  Mademoiselle  Croizette. 
She  it  was  who  gave  to  the  death-scene  of  M.  Oc- 
tave Feuillet's  most  unpleasant  play  so  realistic  a 
flavor,  the  fame  of  which  crossed  the  Atlantic  and 
made  the  name  of  the  actress  familiar  in  America. 
Mile.  Sophie  Croizette  is  a  child  of  the  stage ;  her 
grandfather  was  dramatic  author  and  actor  and 
manager  ;  his  daughter  (her  mother)  was  a  dancer. 
Her  father  was  a  Russian,  and  she  was  born  in  St. 
Petersburg  about  thirty  years  ago.  She  shows  in 
her  acting  a  certain  strange  savor  of  her  Slav  an- 
cestry, as  well  as  an  air  of  coquetry  truly  Parisian. 
Her  mother,  who  had  in  all  three  daughters,  did 
not  wish  any  of  them  to  go  on  the  stage  ;  she  has 
received  two-thirds  of  her  wish  ;  one  of  her  daugh- 
ters has  quietly  married  a  merchant,  another  is  the 
wife  of  M.  Carolus  Duran,  the  artist,  and  only  the 
third  went  on  the  stage,  where  she  has  won  a  re- 
markable success. 

She  was  carefully  educated  as  a  governess,  pass- 
ing with  honors  the  government  examinations,  and 


The  A  ctr esses  of  the  Come"die-Franqaise.     105 

gaining  a  knowledge  of  music  and  a  mastery  of  the 
piano,  which  have  been  of  great  service  to  her 
since.  The  severity  of  the  examinations  broke 
down  her  health,  and  she  had  a  long  sickness. 
Even  after  this  she  still  looked  too  young  and  too 
slight  to  be  trusted  with  the  important  work  of 
teaching.  She  could  find  nothing  to  do.  Her  two 
sisters  married,  and  she  was  left  alone  restless  at 
her  uselessness.  An  intimate  friend  of  her  mother's, 
a  retired  actress,  constantly  talking  about  the  stage, 
awakened  what  speedily  became  an  irresistible  de- 
sire, and  at  last,  by  the  aid  of  M.  Bressant,  then 
one  of  the  leading  actors  of  the  Theatre  Francais, 
but  now  retired,  she  was  admitted  to  the  Conser- 
vatory. In  France  no  one  thinks  of  taking  to  the 
stage  hastily,  and  acting  in  "The  Hunchback"  or 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet"  after  half  a  dozen  lessons. 
The  difficulties  of  the  art  of  acting  are  better  ap- 
preciated there,  and  the  preparatory  work  of  a  pupil 
at  the  Conservatory  is  long  and  toilsome. 

Mile.  Croizette  remained  there  two  years,  being 
graduated  at  last  with  the  first  prize — which  opened 
to  her  the  doors  of  the  Theatre  Frangais.  Just  at 
this  time  "  Frou-frou  "  was  seeking  an  actress  for 
its  heroine,  and  the  authors  and  the  manager  of 
the  Gymnase  Dramatique,  where  it  was  to  be  pro- 
duced, thought  they  saw  in  Mile.  Croizette  the 
actress  that  the  part  required.  But  the  Comedie- 
Fran^aise  conquered  ;  Mile.  Croizette  was  engaged 


io6  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

at  an  annual  salary  of  eighteen  hundred  francs, 
which  was  raised  to  three  thousand  four  hundred 
the  night  of  her  first  appearance.  "  Frou-frou  " 
found  a  finer  interpreter  than  the  raw  novice  could 
then  have  been,  in  the  late  Mile.  Desclee,  by  far 
the  greatest  actress  of  the  last  ten  years,  whose 
early  death  is  deeply  to  be  deplored  by  all  lovers 
of  the  dramatic  art. 

For  two  years  Mile.  Croizette  played  various 
parts  in  the  regular  repertory — the  thirty  or  forty, 
or  even  at  times  more  plays,  some  of  which  are 
acted  two  or  three  nights  a  week  to  give  relief  to 
the  monotony  of  the  current  novelty.  In  January, 
1873,  she  was  elected  an  associate,  and  in  July 
came  her  first  opportunity,  and  she  made  the  most 
of  it.  The  play  was  but  one  single  little  act  long, 
but  this  was  enough.  It  was  the  "  Ete  de  la  St. 
Martin  "  of  MM.  Meilhac  and  Halevy,  the  authors 
of  "  Frou-frou,"  who  had  compounded  for  her  a 
part  of  singular  and  seductive  grace,  admirably 
adapted  to  her  personal  and  peculiar  charms. 

After  this  came  a  rather  more  important  part 
character  in  M.  Augier's  drama  made  from  the  fine 
novel,  "  Jean  de  Thommeray,"  of  his  friend  M. 
Jules  Sandeau — using  with  most  picturesque  effect 
the  Franco-Prussian  war  as  a  background.  In  this 
part  Mile.  Croizette  was  again  successful.  Not 
long  after  she  was  intrusted  with  the  leading 
part  in  M.  Octave  Feuillet's  peculiar  play,  the 


The  Actresses  of  the  Come'die-Franqaise.     107 

"  Sphinx."  The  part  was  identical  with  the  rather 
romantic  heroine  of  any  other  of  M.  Feuillet's  plays, 
but  Mile.  Croizette  endowed  it  with  a  nameless 
fascination,  a  subtle  and  almost  barbaric  color, 
serving  as  a  fit  preface  for  the  curious  catastrophe. 
The  motto  of  Mile.  Croizette  is  a  entrance — to  the 
death,  to  the  bitter  end  ;  and  the  style  in  which 
she  treated  the  final  scene  of  M.  Feuillet's  play 
shows  how  she  acted  up  to  her  motto.  The  plot 
required  that  she  should  die  by  poison,  and  the 
author  intended  no  undue  dying  struggle,  but  a 
quiet  and  simple  death.  Mile.  Croizette  elaborated 
the  situation  into  a  "  sensation  "  which  made  a 
pecuniary  success  for  the  play,  although  it  degraded 
the  play-house  by  turning  it  for  a  time  into  a  cham- 
ber of  horrors. 

There  was  in  the  theatre  a  general  feeling  of 
disgust  at  the  spectacle,  and  one  sharp  hiss  was 
heard ;  but,  as  has  been  said,  the  death-scene  was 
the  "  sensation  "  of  the  piece,  which  it  saved  from 
dying  of  inanition.  It  was  town  talk,  and  it  gave  to 
the  actress  a  notoriety  which  has  attracted  to  her 
and  to  her  subsequent  parts  an  attention  which  her 
merits,  real  and  remarkable  as  they  are,  would  never 
have  sufficed  to  attract.  Since  the  "  Sphinx,"  Mile. 
Croizette  has  appeared  in  several  old  plays  and  in 
one  new  part,  the  Duchess  in  M.  Dumas's  "  Etran- 
gere."  In  this  she  eschewed  sensational  devices ; 
she  embroidered  it  with  no  clap-trap  and  catch- 


io8  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

penny  tricks ;  relying  for  success  purely  on  her 
undoubted  histrionic  powers,  she  gained  another 
triumph,  not  as  loud-sounding  as  its  predecessor, 
but  more  worthy,  and  probably  more  appreciated 
by  the  actress  herself. 

Just  as  Jules  Janin  discovered  Rachel,  so  M. 
Sarcey,  in  a  measure,  discovered  Mile.  Bernhardt. 
His  was  the  word  of  encouraging  criticism  which 
greeted  her  early  appearances,  and  his  the  phrases 
of  glowing  eulogy  which  awaited  her  triumphs. 
But  M.  Sarcey,  although  an  admirer,  is,  above  all,  a 
critic,  and  he  has  not  hesitated  to  declare  that  Mile. 
Bernhardt's  range  is  very  limited.  The  lyre  may 
be  divine,  yet  it  has  but  one  cord.  Now  here  Mile. 
Croizette  has  the  advantage  of  Mile.  Bernhardt. 
Her  talent  is  far  more  supple ;  it  bends  itself  more 
readily  to  a  greater  variety  of  parts.  She  is  a  far 
more  useful  actress  in  the  theatre  than  Mile.  Bern- 
hardt, although  of  late  her  usefulness  is  beginning 
to  be  somewhat  circumscribed  by  her  growing  am- 
plitude of  figure. 

In  London,  the  easy-chair  provided  for  her  to 
fall  back  in  at  the  end  of  the  startling  scene  at  the 
end  of  the  "  Sphinx"  was  not  large  enough.  The 
actress  almost  fell  to  the  floor,  and  of  course  her 
point  was  spoilt.  This  fulness  of  figure  begins  to 
debar  Mile.  Croizette  from  those  juvenile  and  girlish 
parts  in  which  she  first  became  known.  It  is  forcing 
her  into  the  stronger  and  more  mature  heroines  of 


The  Actresses  of  the  Comddie-Franqaise.     109 

high  comedy ;  and  a  transition  period  is  always  an 
ungrateful  one. 

It  is  fourteen  years  now  since  I  first  went  to  the 
Theatre  Francois,  and  although  I  was  only  a  lad 
then,  I  can  remember  distinctly  the  performance 
that  evening  and  the  effect  it  had  upon  me.  The 
chief  play  on  the  programme  was  the  beautiful  and 
pathetic  "  On  ne  badine  pas  avec  1'amour"  ("No 
Trifling  with  Love  ")  of  Alfred  de  Musset ;  and  I  do 
not  think  I  can  ever  forget  the  thrill  which  ran 
through  me  at  the  final  words  of  the  last  scene, 
grandly  played  by  M.  Delaunay  and  Mile.  Favart, 
then  at  her  best,  and  delivering  with  great  effect 
the  irrevocable  "  Farewell,  Perdican  :  she  is  dead  ! " 

The  coming  of  Miles.  Bernhardt  and  Croizette  has 
had  the  effect  of  pushing  somewhat  into  the  back- 
ground Mile.  Favart,  who,  for  ten  years  or  more, 
had  worthily  held  the  head  of  the  company.  Time 
will  not  wait  or  go  more  slowly  even  for  the  lead- 
ing lady  of  the  leading  theatre  of  the  world,  and 
Mile.  Favart  is  beginning  to  discover  that  youth  is 
even  better  than  experience.  Was  it  not  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons  who  said  that  no  woman  ever  knew  enough 
to  play  "  Juliet  "  until  long  after  she  was  too  old  to 
look  it  ?  Mile.  Favart  is  an  actress  of  consummate 
art,  but  she  is  no  longer  young  enough  to  look  the 
juvenile  heroines  she  is  otherwise  so  competent  to 
act ;  and  wiser  in  her  generation  than  Mile.  Mars — 
who  held  on  with  a  grip  of  iron  to  the  girlish  parts 


no  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

she  had  played  for  forty  years,  until,  at  last,  some 
heartless  ruffian  threw  a  wreath  of  immortelles 
upon  the  stage  at  her  feet — Mile.  Favart  is  of  late 
beginning  to  accept  the  inevitable.  She  is  there- 
fore taking  up  parts  in  which  her  skill  and  experi- 
ence will  tell — parts  like  the  mother  in  Mme.  de 
Girardin's  touching  little  play,  "  La  Joie  fait  Peur" 
(Irished  for  us  by  Mr.  Boucicault  as  "  Kerry  ;  or 
Night  and  Morning ").  Mile.  Favart  has  thus 
passed  from  the  playing  of  the  heroines  to  the 
playing  of  the  hero's  mother. 

Among  the  other  ladies  of  the  Comedie  Fran- 
c_aise  are  Mile.  Jouassain,  who  plays  comic  old  wo- 
men, and  Mme.  Madeleine  Brohan,  daughter  and 
sister  of  actresses  like  her,  clever,  beautiful,  and 
witty,  having  indeed  her  full  share  of  the  well- 
known  wit  of  the  family,  and  bearing  as  proudly  as 
they  the  family  motto.  As  the  old  Rohan  declared, 
"  Rot  ne  puis ;  Prince  ne  daigne ;  Rohan  sins,"  so, 
paraphrasing  this,  Mile.  Brohan  said  at  her  first 
appearance,  "Mars  ne  puis ;  Plessy  ne  daigne ; 
Brohan  suis" 

Mile.  Brohan  is  most  charming  to  gaze  at,  and,  in 
spite  of  an  indolence  which  has  prevented  her  from 
taking  the  high  .ank  to  which  her  natural  ability 
entitles  her,  she  appears  to  the  utmost  advantage 
in  witty  and  amiable  dowagers,  ladies  of  the  old 
school,  puncturing  more  modern  pretensions  with 
a  swift  epigram,  and  sometimes  putting  aside  more 


MLL£.     FAVART. 


The  Actresses  of  the  Come" die -Franqaise.     ill 

modern  notions  with  a  graceful  wave  of  her  antique 
fan. 

Besides  these  elderly  ladies,  there  is  a  bevy  of 
younger  beauties — not  all  of  them  beauties  either ; 
but  nearly  all  graduates  of  the  Conservatory,  with 
native  talent,  good  training,  and  high  hopes.  Chief 
among  them  is  Mile.  Suzanne  Reichemberg,  the 
leading  ingenue,  if  a  French  word  may  be  used 
which  has  no  exact  English  equivalent.  An  in- 
genue is  the  fresh  and  innocent  young  girl  unawak- 
ened  as  yet  to  the  wickedness  of  the  world — a 
character  French  authors  are  fond  of  drawing,  and 
therefore  frequent  in  French  dramatic  literature 
from  Moliere's  day  to  ours.  Mile.  Baretta  plays 
the  same  line  of  parts,  but  she  lacks  the  largeness 
of  style  which  characterizes  Mile.  Reichemberg's 
acting  in  the  classic  comedies.  Nor  is  Mile.  Reich- 
emberg confined  to  the  old  plays:  her  greatest  suc- 
cess has  been  as  Susel,  in  the  "  Friend  Fritz  "  of 
of  MM.  Erckmann-Chatrian,  a  part  which  her  Alsa- 
tian ancestry  may  have  helped  her  to  fill  satisfac- 
torily. Mile.  Baretta's  dainty  and  delicate  ways, 
which  lend  a  charm  to  pretty  little  plays  of  our 
day,  are  at  fault  in  the  fuller  and  freer  outlines  of 
the  older  plays,  and  in  these  Mile.  Reichemberg  is 
easily  the  superior.  But  there  is  about  Mile.  Ba- 
retta a  certain  outspoken  frankness  of  style  not 
without  its  charm  and  its  merit. 

Between   Miles.  Bernhardt  and  Croizette  in  the 


U2  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

leading  parts,  and  Miles.  Baretta  and  Reichemberg 
in  the  younger  characters,  comes  Mile.  Broisat, 
who,  in  spite  of  the  unexpected  favor  with  which 
she  was  received  in  England,  has  never  in  Paris 
been  considered  other  than  a  useful  and  competent 
actress,  capable  of  good  work  in  second-rate  parts. 

The  soubrettes,  or  pert  waiting-women  of  classic 
comedy,  of  no  slight  importance  in  many  of  Mo- 
Here's  best  plays,  are  divided  at  the  Theatre  Fran- 
^ais  between  Mile.  Dinah  Felix,  a  sister  of  Rachel, 
and  Mile.  Jeanne  Samary,  a  niece  of  Mile.  Brohan. 

In  the  month  of  February,  just  as  this  little  book 
was  trying  to  get  itself  into  print,  a  new  and  im- 
portant comedy,  in  five  acts,  by  M.  Victorien  Sardou, 
and  called  "  Daniel  Rochat,"  was  brought  out  at  the 
Theatre  Francois,  with  Mile.  Bartet  in  the  chief 
part.  It  was  the  second  time  that  M.  Sardou  ven- 
tured on  the  stage  of  the  Theatre  Frangais.  His 
first  play  at  this  house  was  a  hopeless  failure; 
but  now,  having  recently  been  elected  a  member 
of  the  French  Academy,  he  held  it  a  point  of  honor 
to  make  his  first  appearance  before  the  public  on 
the  stage  of  the  Theatre  Frangais.  And  at  his  re- 
quest Mile.  Bartet  was  engaged.  A  graduate  of  the 
Conservatory,  and  still  very  young,  Mile.  Bartet 
had  her  first  triumph  in  the  trying  part  of  Zicka,  in 
M.  Sardou's  "  Dora,"  in  some  respects  his  strongest 
and  finest  work,  and  known  to  the  English  and 
American  stage  as  "  Diplomacy."  Her  part  in 


The  Actresses  of  the  Comedie-Fran$aise.     113 

"  Daniel  Rochat  "  was  more  prominent  and  impor- 
tant, and  even  though  the  new  drama  fail,  her  posi- 
tion in  the  theatre  hereafter  will  be  secure,  and  the 
Comedie-Fran^aise  will  have  gained  a  valuable  ac- 
quisition. At  present,  as  we  have  seen,  there  is  no 
actress  at  once  young  and  clever,  who  is  capable 
of  playing  brilliantly  the  youthful  heroines  of  mod- 
ern comedy.  These  were  the  parts  that  Mile.  Fa- 
vart  played  before  she  began  to  show  signs  of  age, 
and  that  Mile.  Croizette  acted  before  she  bloomed 
out  into  her  present  matronly  majesty  of  figure. 

Mile.  Bartet  comes  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  if  the 
rumor  be  true,  which  reports  that  Mile.  Favart  is 
about  to  take  her  retreat,  resigning  from  the  com- 
pany of  which  she  was  long  a  leader,  and  retiring 
on  the  ample  pension  her  services  have  secured 
her.  It  is  possibly  Mile.  Favart's  resignation  that 
has  made  the  vacancy  in  the  ranks  of  the  associates 
which  Mile.  Bartet  has,  since  the  first  performance 
of  "  Daniel  Rochat,"  been  elected  to  fill. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   ACTORS   OF  THE   COMEDIE-FRANCAISE. 

> 

CUSTOM  has  created,  in  comedy  and  drama,  cer- 
tain recognized  classes  of  characters.  An  actor  who 
devotes  himself  to  one  line  of  parts  expects  to  re- 
ceive all  the  parts  of  that  line.  In  a  very  full  com- 
pany there  would  be  a  pair  of  "  leading  men,"  a 
"  light  comedian,"  an  "  old  man,"  a  couple  of  "  low 
comedians,"  an  actor  of  "  character,"  or  eccentric 
parts,  a  "  heavy  man  " — the  villain  of  the  piece — 
and  a  "  walking  gentleman."  There  would  be  a 
pair  of  "  leading  ladies,"  a  "  juvenile  lead,"  an 
"  ingenue"  a  "  chamber-maid,"  an  "  old  woman  " 
perhaps  two.  These  are  the  more  important  people 
which  a  full  and  first-rate  company  would  require. 
In  its  twenty-three  associates,  each  sharing  in  the 
profits  and  playing  the  best  parts  in  his  or  her 
line,  the  Comedie  Francaise  has  more  actors  and  ac- 
tresses of  the  first  rank  than  have  ever  anywhere 
else  been  gathered  into  one  company — not  except- 
ing even  the  wonderful  conjunction  of  comedians 
who  formed  the  cast  of  the  original  "  School  for 
Scandal." 

This  classification  is  not  rigid.     It  often  happens 
that,   owing  to   special   circumstances,    the   "  low 

114 


The  Actors  of  the  Come'die-Frangaise.        115 

comedian  "  takes  the  part  of  an  old  man,  or  the 
"character  "  actor  is  cast  for  a  "  heavy  "  part.  No 
hard-and-fast  rules  can  be  laid  down.  All  prece- 
dent yields  before  the  diversity  of  talent  exhibited 
by  the  different  actors  holding  technically  the  same 
rank  and  the  same  line  of  parts.  In  the  Theatre 
Fran§ais,  M.  Coquelin  is  one  of  the  "  low  comedi- 
ans ;"  but  in  the  "  Etrangere "  of  M.  Dumas,  M. 
Coquelin  created  the  part  of  the  Duke  of  Sept 'monts, 
the  aristocratic  villain  of  the  piece ;  and  when  the 
play  was  adapted  to  the  American  stage  this  same 
rascally  Duke  was  played  here  by  Mr.  Coghlan,  the 
"leading  man"  of  the  theatre.  And  again,  in  the 
"  Fourchambault  "  of  M.  Emile  Augier,  the  greatest 
success  of  the  Exposition  year,  and  an  honest  and 
hardy  play,  the  two  strongly  contrasted  and  pivotal 
parts  of  the  piece  are  played  by  M.  Got  and  M. 
Coquelin.  Now,  M.  Got  and  M.  Coquelin  are  both 
technically  "  low  comedians ;  "  they  both  act,  or 
have  acted,  the  intriguing  serving-men  of  Moliere's 
comedies — the  valets  de  Moliere^  as  the  parts  are 
called ;  and  these  were  the  parts  Moliere  wrote  for 
himself,  and  to  play  them  in  Moliere's  own  house 
is  no  small  honor.  Indeed,  one  well-known  French 
actor  is  said  to  have  refused  an  engagement  at  the 
Theatre  Fra^ais,  because  he  did  not  wish  to  enter 
a  house  where  the  valets  were  the  masters. 

Before   MM.   Got  and  Coquelin,  the   parts  were 
held  by  M.  Samson,  the  tutor  of  Rachel,  and  by  M. 


n6  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

Regnier,  the  teacher  of  both  of  his  successors. 
And  no  one  of  these  four  remarkable  comedians 
limited  himself  to  the  parts  which  came  strictly 
within  his  technical  line.  M.  Coquelin  —  to  cite 
again  the  actor  of  at  once  the  greatest  promise  and 
the  finest  performance  on  the  French  stage  of  to- 
day— acts,  outside  of  his  own  line,  the  villains  in 
the  "  Fourchambault  "  and  the  "  Etrangere,"  the 
suffering  and  hungry  ballad-maker  in  M.  Theodore 
de  Banville's  beautiful  "  Gringoire,"  and  the  revo- 
lutionary hero  of  "  Jean  Dacier." 

Of  the  three  first  and  foremost  actors  now  at  the 
Theatre  Fran^ais,  M.  Got,  M.  Delaunay,  and  M. 
Coquelin — to  name  them  in  the  order  of  seniority — 
two  are  essentially,  as  has  been  said  already,  comic 
actors.  With  these  two  a  review  of  the  male  per- 
formers of  the  Comedie  Fran§aise  must  perforce 
begin. 

Although  M.  Got  is  the  dean  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran£aise,  or,  in  other  words,  the  senior  associate, 
he  is  not  yet  an  aged  man.  As  an  artist  no  one  is 
less  old.  M.  Got  seizes  on  the  modernness  of  a 
part,  accentuates  it,  and  gives  you  a  palpitating 
actuality,  as  the  French  call  it,  meaning  thereby  a 
pertinence  to  the  things  of  to-day.  But  when  the 
part  is  not  modern,  when  it  is  a  figment  of  the 
imagination,  a  fantastic  fashioning,  M.  Got  gives 
full  play  to  his  own  abundant  fantasy,  and  revels  in 
the  rich  humor  and  the  rioting  farce.  When  he 


The  Actors  of  the  Come"die-Franqaise.        117 

has  to  copy  reality,  he  copies  it  with  an  exactness 
and  a  relief  simply  astonishing.  And  it  is  in  parts 
of  this  class  that  he  has  made  his  greatest  successes. 
The  authority  over  the  public  which  he  now  exerts 
was  not  gained  without  toil  and  weary  waiting. 
He  was  a  charity  scholar,  taking  prizes  by  hard 
work,  until  an  insult  from  a  coarse  superior  made 
him  give  up  his  studies,  and,  at  the  age  of  eighteen, 
take  to  journalism. 

Then  he  went  to  the  Conservatory,  winning  a 
prize  with  an  annual  allowance,  which  stopped  when 
he  was  graduated  with  the  highest  honors.  For  a 
time  he  supported  himself  as  a  bookseller's  hack, 
until  he  drew  a  bad  number  in  the  conscription  and 
fell  into  the  ranks,  a  private  in  the  army.  Eight 
months  later  he  was  a  sergeant.  This  not  satisfy- 
ing his  ambition,  he  applied  for  permission  to  make 
a  first  appearance  at  the  Comedie-Francaise,  to 
which  his  prize  at  the  Conservatory  entitled  him. 
His  first  appearance  was  a  bad  failure.  Two  days 
later,  he  read  in  a  paper  a  slashing  article  on  his 
acting,  and  by  accident  the  same  night  he  met  the 
writer  of  it,  one  Charles  Maurice,  a  clever  free  lance, 
or  freebooter  rather,  whose  weapon  was  ever  for 
sale. 

"  Well,  young  man,"  said  he  to  Got,  "  why  have 
you  not  been  to  see  me?  In  France  it  is  custom- 
ary for  an  artist  to  call  on  a  writer  to  thank  him 
for  kindly  criticism." 


n8  The  Theatres  of  Paris, 

"  In  fact,  sir,"  said  Got,  "  I  am  poor,  and  I  have 
no  money  to  pay  the  claque." 

The  venomous  journalist  never  forgave  the  actor ; 
he  was  Got's  bitterest  enemy — to  Got's  great  profit, 
for,  as  he  told  M.  Sarcey,  "  Maurice  had  a  marvel- 
lous skill  in  finding  weak  places,  and  an  incompar- 
able meanness  in  railing  at  them.  I  corrected  my- 
self of  many  a  fault  by  reading  his  criticism,  and  it 
cost  me  nothing.  It  was  all  clear  gain."  This 
shows  just  what  stuff  the  actor  was  made  of ;  he 
criticised  himself ;  he  toiled,  he  studied,  he  im- 
proved ;  and  when  M.  Augier  wrote  his  "  Effron- 
tes,"  M.  Got,  who  in  the  meantime  met  with  not  a 
few  successes,  attained  an  overwhelming  triumph. 
From  philosophic  comedy  to  the  most  extrava- 
gant farce  is  a  wide  range,  but  M.  Got  takes  it  all 
in.  No  more  thoughtful,  contemplative  actor  ex- 
ists anywhere,  but  in  farce  he  carries  absurdity  to 
the  very  climax  of  extravagance,  without  once  los- 
ing his  grip  of  himself  or  his  audience. 

The  portrait  of  M.  Got  in  the  part  of  Maitre 
Pierre  Pathelin,  given  in  this  book,  was  copied 
from  the  etching  prepared  for  M.  Sarcey's  "  Co- 
m£diens  et  Comediennes."  It  is  fitting  that  the 
oldest  associate  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise  should 
be  pictured  in  a  character  of  the  oldest  extant  play 
of  the  French  language.  Competent  critics  of  act- 
ing have  praised  especially  the  exuberant  and  tre- 
mendous comicality  with  which  he  carries  off  this 


The  Actors  of  the  Come"die-Franqaise.        \  19 

relic  of  mediaeval  farce.  The  play  itself  has  had 
adventures  enough  to  furnish  forth  one  of  the  most 
extended  and  interesting  chapters  of  literary  his- 
tory, which,  if  a  digression  be  pardoned,  may  be 
briefly  summarized  here. 

It  was  written  in  the  fifteenth  century,  possibly 
by  the  famous  Fran£ois  Villon,  but  more  probably 
by  Pierre  Blanchet.  Saturated  in  situation  and 
language  with  Gallic  salt,  it  was  the  most  popular 
farce  of  the  century,  and  doubtless  received  addi- 
tions on  all  sides  ;  it  was  imitated  by  Reuchlin  in 
Germany,  and  one  of  its  most  important  scenes  is 
to  be  found  in  the  "Towneley  Mysteries."  The 
familiar  phrase  "  Revenons  a  nos  moutons  "  had  its 
origin  in  the  action  of  this  play,  and  many  a 
French  proverb  is  first  to  be  found  in  it.  Both 
Moliere  and  La  Fontaine  admired  its  frank  gayety. 
But  after  their  death  comedy  stiffened,  and  the 
frantic  farce  was  worked  over  into  a  mild  three-act 
comedy — "  L'Avocat  Pathelin,"  by  Brueys  and  Pa- 
laprat,  which  held  the  stage  for  nearly  two  hundred 
years,  and  only  left  it  because  M.  Edouard  Fournier, 
in  1872,  brought  out  a  reverent  revision  of  the  origi- 
nal text,  far  more  racy  and  idiomatic  than  the  wa- 
tered comedy  whose  usurpation  it  ended.  Another 
modification  of  the  old  farce  has  been  set  as  a 
comic  opera. 

It  was,  however,  "  L'Avocat  Pathelin "  which 
served  as  a  basis  for  "  The  Village  Lawyer,"  a 


I2O  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

two-act  farce  produced  by  Garrick  in  London,  at 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,  with  the  usual  success,  and 
a  rather  more  lasting  success  than  most  of  Gar- 
rick's  productions,  for  the  play  may.  be  said  al- 
most to  hold  the  stage  to  this  day,  as  it  has  been 
played  here  in  New  York,  by  Mr.  Jefferson,  within 
twenty  years.  Nor  is  this  the  last  of  the  play's 
transformations.  In  those  places  of  amusement 
which  for  some  inscrutable  reason  are  called  "  vari- 
ety "  shows,  is  frequently  given  "  an  Ethiopian 
sketch,"  in  two  scenes,  called  "  The  Mutton  Trial," 
which  is  a  perversion  of  "  The  Village  Lawyer ;  " 
and  thus  traces  of  the  oldest  specimen  of  French 
dramatic  literature  are  still  to  be  seen  on  the 
American  stage. 

The  actor  who  shares  with  M.  Got  the  more 
comic  parts  is  M.  Coquelin.  It  is  hard  to  say  which 
is  the  greater.  M.  Got  is  the  elder  soldier,  and  has 
therefore  been  first  considered.  M.  Coquelin  has 
finer  natural  advantages.  For  one  thing  he  has 
a  voice  of  extraordinary  strength  and  brilliancy; 
he  plays  each  of  his  parts  in  a  different  key,  a  dif- 
ferent color,  as  it  were,  and  when  he  has  once  be- 
gun he  gives  it  no  further  thought,  so  thoroughly 
has  training  made  it  obedient  to  his  will.  M.  Co- 
quelin has  youth — he  is  not  forty ;  he  has  fire  and 
fervor;  he  has  a  quick  intelligence  and  great  ambi- 
tion; he  has  studied  hard  and  in  the  best  school; 
but  the  quality  which  strikes  one  at  first  hearing 


The  Actors  of  the  Come"die-Fran$aise.        121 

him  is  his  ringing  and  sonorous  voice,  revelling  in 
trumpet  notes  and  rolling  out  a  long  speech  with 
unbroken  felicity. 

After  M.  Coquelin  had  been  graduated  from  the 
Conservatory,  and  had  entered  the  Frangais,  he  was 
assigned  a  part  in  a  new  play.  His  delight  was  but 
short,  for  the  author,  to  oblige  an  old  actor,  Pro- 
vost, gave  it  to  Provost's  son.  To  console  M.  Co- 
quelin for  his  disappointment,  the  manager  offered 
him,  novice  as  he  was,  the  choice  of  a  part.  He  chose 
Figaro,  the  valet  in  the  "  Marriage  of  Figaro,"  and 
for  four  acts  he  was  so  frightened  that  everything 
failed  him :  but  in  the  fifth  act  he  recovered  himself 
and  conquered  his  audience,  and  from  that  time  to 
this  no  one  has  disputed  his  title  to  the  whole  line 
of  valets.  In  many  other  parts  in  Moliere's  plays, 
although  especially  in  the  valets,  which  he  fills  with 
a  rushing  and  turbulent  gayety  absolutely  irresisti- 
ble, M.  Coquelin  has  been  successful,  imprinting 
on  each  a  definite  individuality. 

Of  late,  M.  Coquelin  has  chosen  to  try  for  tears 
as  well  as  laughter.  They  lie  perilously  close  to- 
gether. But  the  actor  knew  his  powers,  and  won 
new  laurels  in  a  new  field.  Some  of  the  best  of  his 
later  parts  mingle  tears  and  smiles — notably  in  the 
"Tabarin"  of  his  friend,  M.  Paul  Ferrier,  one  of 
the  most  promising  of  the  younger  dramatists  of 
France.  In  this  play  he  is  represented  as  married, 
and  he  and  his  wife  belong  to  a  company  of  mounte- 


122  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

banks.  The  great  scene  of  the  piece  shows  us  the 
stage  of  the  strolling  company,  with  Tabarin  play- 
ing the  part  of  a  deceived  and  abandoned  husband. 
While  he  is  amusing  the  crowd  with  his  droll  grief, 
he  discovers  that  his  wife  actually  has  eloped.  His 
feeling  breaks  at  once  through  the  paint  of  the 
clown,  and  he  weeps  real  tears,  but  the  silly  crowd 
applaud  only  the  more,  and  cannot  see  the  breaking 
heart  beneath.  It  may  be  imagined  what  oppor- 
tunity such  a  part  affords  to  an  actor,  and  what 
advantage  M.  Coquelin  takes  of  it. 

His  interest  in  M.  Ferrier's  play  is  none  the  less 
for  the  fact  that  the  piece  was  written  under  his 
eye  and  at  his  suggestion — the  author's  original  in- 
tention having  been  to  use  the  situation  in  the 
libretto  of  a  grand  opera,  in  which  M.  Faure,  the 
great  baritone,  should  sing  Tabarin. 

Another  play  which  M.  Ferrier  has  written  for 
M.  Coquelin  is  called  "  At  the  Lawyer's,"  and  shows 
a  quarrelling  husband  and  wife  meeting  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  man  of  law.  It  is  a  comic  treat  to  see 
Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt  trying  to  vie  in  volubility 
with  M.  Coquelin,  before  the  face  of  the  astonished 
lawyer,  who  cannot  get  in  a  word  edgeways. 

In  M.  Dumas's  latest  play,  the  "  Etrangere,"  he 
is  shown  in  still  another  class  of  character :  here  he 
is  a  villain  of  the  deepest  dye,  but  of  the  utmost 
polish  and  the  noblest  birth.  The  Duke  is  a  choice 
specimen  of  the  ultimate  corruption  to  which  an 


The  Actors  of  the  Come'die-Franqaise.        123 

enervated  aristocracy  is  liable.  The-  Duke  is  out- 
wardly a  perfect  gentleman,  and  inwardly  the  most 
despicable  of  wretches.  In  the  play,  which,  by  the 
way,  is  not  one  of  M.  Dumas's  best,  although  in  the 
Duke  we  have  one  of  M.  Dumas's  boldest  and  most 
satiric  portraits,  there  is  an  American  to  whom 
the  Duke  makes  a  dishonorable  proposition,  and 
who  leads  the  Duke  on  by  tacit  acquiescence  in  his 
schemes  until  he  sees  the  extent  of  their  villany 
and  meanness.  Then  he  turns  and  tells  the  Duke 
that  he  has  made  a  mistake  in  thinking  that  he 
could  take  a  hand  in  any  dirty  job  like  this,  and  he 
ends  by  sharply  shaking  his  ringer  in  the  Dukes 
face  and  threatening  him  with  summary  and  con- 
dign punishment  if  he  dare  to  proceed  with  his 
plans.  I  know  of  nothing  finer  on  the  modern 
stage  than  the  expression  of  M.  Coquelin's  face  as 
he  listened  to  this  speech — surprise  at  the  unusual 
tone,  doubt  as  to  whether  the  words  could  be  meant 
for  him,  growing  conviction  that  the  fellow  was  in- 
solent, rapidly  rising  anger,  and  a  final  outburst, 
with  the  sudden  exit  to  fight  a  duel  to  the  death 
off-hand  then  and  there. 

But  a  truly  great  actor  is  greatest  in  the  greatest 
part,  and  perhaps  M.  Coquelin  is  seen  at  his  best  in 
the  rich  comic  characters  of  Moliere's  noble  com- 
edies. He  is  the  ideal  Mascarille — quick-witted, 
light-fingered,  loud-mouthed,  and  long-winded.  And 
he  is  scarcely  less  admirable  as  the  timid  servant  of 


124  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

"  Don  Juan,"-or  in  the  three  or  four  different  parts 
he  chooses  to  play  in  "  Les  Facheux."  Upon  him 
more  than  upon  any  one  other  rests  the  future  of 
classic  comedy  at  the  Theatre  Fran9ais. 

The  brilliant  correspondent  of  the  Nation,  from 
whose  letter,  written  in  London  during  the  summer 
of  1879,  while  the  Comedie-Frangaise  were  on  their 
visit  to  England,  quotation  has  already  been  made, 
brought  his  epistle  to  an  end  with  a  striking  para- 
graph which  sums  up  at  once  justly  and  effectively 
M.  Coquelin's  merits: 

"  The  striking  thing  in  London,  however,  as  it 
has  long  been  in  Paris,  is  the  great  superiority  of 
the  masculine  side  of  the  house.  The  great  trio  of 
Got,  Delaunay,  Coquelin,  is  unapproached,  and  from 
present  appearances  unapproachable,  by  any  femi- 
nine combination.  Each  of  these  great  actors  has 
won  himself  large  honors  with  the  English  public ; 
each  of  them  has  done  with  a  rich  perfection  that 
which  he  has  had  to  do.  If  I  were  to  put  forward  one 
of  these  artists  rather  than  another  as  the  source  of 
my  own  highest  pleasure,  I  think  I  should  have  little 
hesitation  in  naming  the  rich,  the  rare,  the  admi- 
rable and  inimitable  Coquelin.  There  was  a  time 
when  I  thought  Got  the  first  of  living  actors,  and 
Got  is  certainly  still  a  consummate,  a  superb  come- 
dian. But  as  Coquelin  has  advanced  in  life  and  in 
his  art,  he  has  attained  a  command  of  his  powers 
and  developed  an  intelligence  of  the  whole  dra- 


M.    DCLAUNAY, 


The  Actors  of  the  Comddie-Franqaise.        125 

matic  mystery  which  place  him,  to  my  sense,  almost 
alone.  His  variety,  his  versatility,  the  extent  of 
his  scale,  are  extraordinary ;  he  is  at  once  the  most 
joyous  and  exuberant  of  pure  comedians  and  the 
most  powerful  and  touching  of  serious  actors.  He 
has  a  deeper  intelligence  than  is  often  seen  upon 
the  stage ;  he  strikes  at  once  the  note  of  high  comi- 
cality and  the  note  of  passion,  of  deep  seriousness  ; 
and  he  does  both  of  these  things  with  a  certain 
touching,  moving,  exciting  ardor.  I  said  just  now 
that  Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt  was  supposed  to  be 
going  to  America.  That  is  all  very  well ;  but  what 
I  really  wish  is  that  M.  Coquelin  would  go." 

The  third  of  the  three  great  actors  of  the  Come- 
die-Fran^aise  to-day — and  indeed  it  may  well  be 
doubted  if  in  all  its  history  it  has  ever  had  three 
finer  artists  playing  constantly  together — and  the 
second  of  them  in  point  of  seniority,  is  M.  Delaunay. 
In  speaking  of  Mile.  Favart  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ter I  have  recorded  the  profound  impression  made 
on  me  the  first  time  I  saw  M.  Delaunay.  The  ad- 
miration then  excited  has  deepened  with  every 
opportunity  since  offered  to  observe  his  grace,  his 
ever-present  youth,  and  his  consummate  skill.  A 
more  perfect  artist  than  M.  Delaunay  it  would  be 
impossible  to  find.  He  plays  the  young  lovers,  the 
Orlandos  who  hang  sonnets  on  trees,  and  breathe 
tender  messages  of  love  to  the  whispering  winds. 
He  has  a  beautiful,  clear,  silvery  voice,  which  he 


126  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

uses  with  wonderful  effect.  To  have  seen  him  and 
Mile.  Favart  a  few  years  ago  as  the  Poet  and  the 
Muse  in  Alfred  de  Musset's  rhapsodic  reverie,  "  The 
October  Night,"  is  to  have  seen  that  which  it  is  an 
ever-recurring  pleasure  to  recall. 

He  is  good-looking,  and  he  is  young-looking. 
Although  a  little  over  fifty,  no  one  who  saw  him 
for  the  first  time  in  a  youthful  part  would  ever 
credit  him  with  more  years  than  the  part  called  for. 
But  he  himself  knows  his  advancing  age,  and  he  has 
already  turned  his  attention  to  heavier  parts,  for 
which  his  skill  and  his  natural  gifts  fit  him,  and 
which  he  would  before  have  taken  up  had  there 
been  any  one  to  replace  him  as  the  lighter  lovers. 
There  is  no  danger  that  he  will  ever  be  hissed  for 
appearing  in  a  part  for  which  he  was  incapacitated 
by  senility ;  no  danger  that  the  shrill  sound  will 
make  him  come  to  the  foot-lights  as  once  it  did  Mile. 
Mars,  to  say  in  self-defence :  "  Messieurs,  Mile. 
Marie"  —  her  part  in  the  play  —  "is  but  sixteen 
years  old.  Mile.  Mars,  alas  !  is  sixty  !  " 

M.  Delaunay  is  seen  at  his  best  in  the  elegant  and 
light-headed  lovers,  like  the  hero  of  Moliere's 
"  Etourdi,"  or  in  the  quick-witted  and  lying  lovers, 
like  the  hero  of  Corneille's  "  Menteur  " — a  hero, 
this  last,  whom  we  have  had  preserved  for  us  here 
by  Mr.  Lester  Wallack's  clear-cut  performance  in 
Mr.  Charles  Mathews's  reduction  of  Foote's  "  Liar." 
It  is  in  these  richly  endowed  and  poetically  imag- 


The  Actors  of  the  Come'die-Franqaise.        127 

ined  characters  that  he  is  most  at  ease,  and  this 
suggests  the  other  side  of  the  medal.  He  is  always 
ideal,  and  rarely  real  in  the  sense  of  to-day.  He 
is  best  in  the  graceful  mantle  of  classic  comedy. 
He  is  even  almost  ill  at  ease  in  the  frock  coat  and 
trowsers  of  hard  and  complex  modern  comedy. 
Indeed,  he  is  not  modern.  Even  in  a  comedy  of 
the  nineteenth  century  he  cannot  rid  himself  of  the 
grace  and  the  charm  and  the  amplitude  of  the  com- 
edy of  the  seventeenth  century.  In  this  respect 
he  is  in  complete  contrast  to  M.  Got,  his  only  senior 
as  an  associate,  who,  as  has  already  been  remarked, 
is  the  very  incarnation  of  modernness. 

In  the  suggestive  biographical  sketch  which  M. 
Sarcey  has  drawn  of  this  actor,  he  says  that  M. 
Delaunay's  life  can  be  summed  up  in  the  single 
phrase,  "Associate  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise." 
Graduated  from  the  Conservatory  with  a  prize  in 
1845,  ne  acted  for  two  years  and  a  half  at  the 
Odeon,  the  second  Theatre  Franc_ais,  and  in  1848 
he  crossed  the  river  to  join  the  Comedie-Franc.aise, 
of  which  he  was  made  an  associate  in  1850.  For 
the  noble  institution,  in  the  history  of  which  for  now 
more  than  thirty  years  he  has  borne  an  honorable 
part,  M.  Delaunay  has  the  highest  respect  and 
reverence.  It  grieves  him  to  see  any  scandals  or 
bickerings  clouding  even  for  a  moment  the  fair  fame 
of  the  Com^die-Frangaise.  Holding  that  to  be  a 
member  of  the  organization  founded  by  Moliere  is 


128  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

the  highest  honor  to  which  an  actor  can  aspire,  he 
regards  with  no  slight  dissatisfaction  those  of  his 
comrades  who  are  not  content  with  their  shares  of 
the  liberal  profits  lately  divided  among  the  associ- 
ates, but  seek  to  enlarge  their  gains  by  a  multitude 
of  external  engagements — a  recitation  here  and  a 
little  comedy  there. 

M.  Delaunay  reserves  himself  for  the  service  of 
his  art,  and  of  the  Comedie-Franc,aise ;  except  for 
charity,  he  rarely  if  ever  appears  as  an  actor  else- 
where. There  is  no  possible  flavor  of  charla- 
tanry about  M.  Delaunay,  and  there  is  nothing  of 
which,  one  might  infer,  he  would  more  disapprove 
than  the  gratutious  self-advertisement  of  Mile. 
Sarah-Bernhardt,  degrading  alike  to  art,  to  the 
artist,  and  to  the  company  to  which  she  belongs. 
Any  one  familiar  with  the  history  of  the  Theatre 
Franc,ais,  and  with  its  traditions,  cannot  but  feel 
that  personages  like  Mile.  Sarah-Bernhardt  are 
very  much  out  of  place  within  its  walls.  It  is  well 
that  there  are  yet  some  like  M.  Delaunay,  who  hold 
firmly  to  the  traditions  of  the  institution,  and  who 
uphold  nobly  the  dignity  of  the  art  of  which  they 
are  professors. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  imagine  a  greater  con- 
trast to  the  tender  and  poetic  M.  Delaunay  than 
the  impulsive  M.  Mounet-Sully.  It  is  the  contrast 
of  art  and  nature.  And,  on  the  stage,  what  is 
needed  is  not  nature,  raw  and  fresh,  but  art ;  that 


M.    MOUNET-SULLV. 


The  Actors  of  the  Come'die-Frangaise.        129 

is  to  say,  nature  artistically  revealed  and  presented. 
And  M.  Mounet-Sully,  who  probably  considers  him- 
self a  "  natural "  actor,  gives  us  at  best  but  an  ex- 
pression of  his  own  personality. 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  M.  Mounet-Sully,  who 
plays  the  fiery  and  impassioned  heroes  of  drama  and 
tragedy,  and  who  is  altogether  a  very  remarkable 
young  man,  is  deserving  of  mention  before  M. 
Frederic  Febvre,  who  may  be — indeed  is — the  truer 
artist.  But  M.  Mounet-Sully  is  the  only  young  actor 
of  prominence  in  the  Comedie-Franc.aise  who  has 
any  touch  of  the  poetic  spirit,  and  who  is  in  anyway 
capable  of  playing  the  perfervid  heroes  of  French 
Alexandrines.  For  this  reason,  if  for  no  other,  he 
deserves  mention  immediately  after  M.  Delaunay. 

It  is  also  to  be  said  that  M.  Mounet-Sully,  though 
less  of  an  artist  than  M.  Febvre,  has  greater  natu- 
ral gifts.  He  is  the  born  actor,  not  the  made  actor, 
and  certainly  not  the  actor  who,  born  with  genius, 
has  strengthened  it  by  study.  He  can  act  merely 
as  he  feels,  and  his  feelings  change  from  day 
to  day.  He  rarely  plays  the  same  part  twice 
alike,  and  this  is  a  sure  sign  of  imperfect  art ; 
for  when  an  actor  has  once  found  the  proper  em- 
phasis, the  proper  tone,  and  the  proper  gesture 
for  a  phrase,  he  should  always  seek  to  give  the 
phrase  just  that  emphasis,  just  that  tone,  and  ac- 
company it  by  just  that  gesture.  At  one  time  he 
may  be  able  to  do  it  more  effectively  than  another, 
9 


130  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

but  he  should  always  try  to  do  this.  To  this  fun- 
damental principle  of  the  art  of  acting,  which  all 
great  actors  have  complied  with,  M.  Mounet-Sully 
cannot  conform.  He  cannot  think  out  a  part  in  all 
its  details,  and  gain  a  mechanical  mastery  over 
them,  leaving  his  mind  free  to  the  full  effect  of  his 
emotion.  He  is  only  good  when  the  part  exactly 
suits  his  oriental  and  barbaric,  and  somewhat  fero- 
cious, temperament. 

In  modern  comedy,  in  the  drama  of  every-day 
life,  he  was  at  first  wellnigh  insupportable.  M. 
Emile  Augier  gave  him  the  leading  part  in  his 
"  Jean  de  Thommeray,"  and  had  great  difficulty  in 
drilling  him  in  the  necessary  action  of  the  part. 
What  he  acquired  to-day  he  lost  to-morrow. 
"  Great  heavens  !  "  cried  the  exasperated  author,  at 
last,  "  try  to  have  a  little  less  genius  and  a  little 
more  talent ! " 

M.  Frederic  Febvre  is  only  one  of  the  first-rate 
actors  at  the  Theatre  Frangais  who  appears  to  ad- 
vantage solely  in  modern  plays.  As  a  Frenchman 
and  a  critic  said  of  him  to  me,  "  He  cannot  play 
the  repertory  ! "  Now,  as  almost  as  many  perform- 
ances of  old  plays  as  of  new  are  given  every  year 
in  the  Theatre,  this  inability  to  take  part  in  the 
classic  drama  is  a  decided  drawback  to  the  actor. 
It  comes,  in  a  measure,  from  the  fact  that  M. 
Febvre  is  not  a  graduate  of  the  Conservatory,  but 
is  altogether  a  self-taught  actor,  who  has  got  his 


The  A  ctors  of  the  Come"dic-Fran$aise.        131 

training  as  best  he  could,  at  first  in  the  provinces, 
and  afterward  here  and  there  in  the  theatres  of 
Paris. 

In  M.  L£gouve's  little  book  on  the  art  of  read- 
ing, much  importance  is  attached  to  diction,  a  word 
which  has  no  exact  English  equivalent,  "  delivery  " 
being  perhaps  the  closest  synonym.  M.  Sarcey  re- 
curs again  and  again  to  diction ;  it  is  a  quality  in- 
dispensable at  the  Theatre  Fran£ais,  where  many 
if  not  most  of  the  plays  are  in  verse,  abounding  in 
sonorous  lines.  This  skill  in  delivery  is  either  a 
natural  gift,  as  in  the  case  of  Mile.  Sarah-Bern- 
hardt,  or  it  is  only  acquired  in  the  Conservatory, 
whence  most  of  the  actors  of  the  Theatre  Francais 
have  graduated.  It  is  not  so  much  needed  at  the 
other  theatres,  and  when  an  actor  from  them  comes 
to  the  Fran9ais,  he  often  finds  out  his  deficiencies 
for  the  first  time.  M.  Febvre  made  this  discovery, 
and  has  been  striving  hard  for  ten  years,  in  the 
maturity  of  his  career  as  an  actor,  to  gain  an  ac- 
complishment possessed  by  the  stripling  graduates 
of  the  Conservatory.  As  we  are  without  any  such 
institution  here,  the  rare  actors  and  actresses  we 
have  who  can  freely  handle  blank-verse  must  have 
got  their  precious  gift  by  nature. 

After  acting  at  the  various  melodramatic  thea- 
tres, M.  Febvre  was  engaged  at  the  Odeon,  and 
went  from  there  to  the  Vaudeville,  where  he  played 
the  ardent  lover  of  M.  Sardou's  "  Nos  Intimes," 


132  TJie  Theatres  of  Paris. 

known  to  us  as  "  Friends  or  Foes,"  and  the  pre- 
occupied husband  of  the  eldest  daughter  of  the 
house  in  the  same  author's  "  Famille  Benoiton," 
adapted  into  English  as  the  "  Fast  Family."  From 
the  Vaudeville,  M.  Febvre  passed  to  the  Theatre 
Franc,  ais  in  1866,  and  was  made  an  associate  in 
1867. 

At  the  Theatre  Francais,  M.  Febvre  held  an  hon- 
orable position,  but  it  was  not  until  the  production 
of  MM.  Erckmann-Chatrian's  little  three-act  play  of 
Alsacian  life,  "  Friend  Fritz,"  that  he  won  a  strik- 
ing victory.  This  marked  triumph  was  soon  suc- 
ceeded by  another,  as  the  American  Clarkson  in  M. 
Dumas's  "  Etrangere."  Each  of  these  parts  afforded 
M.  Febvre  an  opportunity  for  seizing  upon  certain 
external  peculiarities  of  the  character,  and  present- 
ing them  forcibly  before  the  eyes  of  the  spectator. 
Both  of  the  plays  were  successful ;  neither  of  them 
was  of  any  great  value.  It  may  justly  be  inferred 
that  they  owed  their  run  to  the  strength  of  the 
acting.  In  M.  Dumas's  "  Etrangere"  M.  Febvre 
gave  a  vigorous  and  vivid  portrait  of  the  American, 
who  is  the  deus  ex  mac  hind  of  that  melodramatic 
comedy,  a  portrait  flattering  to  American  vanity,  a 
portrait  of  realistic  exactness,  for  which  the  actor 
deserves  the  credit,  and  not  the  author.  M.  Dumas 
drew  a  caricature,  an  impossible  American,  or  rather 
the  impossible  American  of  French  stage  conven- 
tion. M.  Febvre  made  this  doubtful  sketch  vital 


M.    WORMS. 


The  Actors  of  the  Come'die-Fran$aise.        133 

and  actual.  His  Clarkson  was  a  man  with  whom 
we  should  not  be  surprised  to  meet  any  day  in  Chi- 
cago or  Salt  Lake  City. 

Space  fails  to  give  the  consideration  due  to  the 
other  actors  of  the  Comedie  Franchise ;  to  M.  Mau- 
bant,  who  plays  with  stately  dignity  the  kings  of 
lordly  and  loud-sounding  tragedy,  but  whose  noble 
voice,  long  his  chief  title  to  distinction,  is  beginning 
to  show  signs  of  age  ;  to  M.  Laroche,  a  young  actor 
of  strength  and  skill ;  to  M.  Thiron,  one  of  the  most 
comic  of  purely  comic  actors;  and  to  M.  Bar  re, 
one  of  the  most  amusing  of  all  amusing  old  men  ; 
to  M.  Ernest  Coquelin,  the  younger  brother  of  the 
great  actor  of  the  same  name,  hard-working,  en- 
ergetic, full  of  fantasy  and  brilliant  in  farce,  and 
best  known  as- yet  for  his  extraordinarily  effective 
delivery  of  humorous  recitations ;  or  to  M.  Worms, 
the  fine  actor  who  has  recently  been  admirable  be- 
yond peradventure  in  the  part  of  Don  Carlos  in  M. 
Victor  Hugo's  "  Hernani." 

One  incident  in  M.  Worms's  career  needs  to  be 
told  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  wish  to  see  the 
theatre  subsidized  by  the  state.  M.  Worms,  who 
is  now  but  little  over  forty,  was  graduated  from  the 
Conservatory,  and  entered  the  Theatre  Fran£ais 
in  1858.  In  time  he  made  his  way,  and  when,  in 
1864,  there  was  a  vacant  share,  he  was  justified  in 
expecting  an  election  as  an  associate.  M.  Coquelin 
was  also  knocking  at  the  doors  for  admission,  but 


134  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

this  did  not  interfere  with  M.  Worms's  expectations. 
It  is  not  customary  for  an  associate  to  begin  at 
once  with  a  full  share.  Both  M.  Coquelin  and  M. 
Worms  might  be  elected,  and  the  share  divided  be- 
tween them.  This  was  what  they  as  well  as  the 
public  generally  expected  to  happen. 

But  this  was  during  the  second  Empire,  and  the 
actors  of  the  Theatre  Frangais  were  called  the  Com- 
edians in  Ordinary  of  the  Emperor.  The  adminis- 
tration of  the  imperial  theatres  was  under  the 
supervision  of  the  Ministry  of  Fine  Arts,  whose 
approval  was  necessary  to  confirm  an  election  as 
associate.  There  was  a  pretty  woman  at  the  Thea- 
tre Frangais  called  Mile.  Edile  Riquier,  who  had  no 
special-talents  except  that  of  being  pretty.  She  had 
a  protector  who  was  high  in  the  imperial  favor,  and 
relying  on  this  influence  she  coveted  the  half  share 
and  the  honor  of  being  an  associate.  In  a  letter 
written  by  the  Minister  to  the  manager  of  the  The- 
atre Francais,  Mile.  Riquier's  claims  were  set  forth 
at  length,  and  a  plain  intimation  given  that  her 
election  would  be  grateful  to  the  powers  that  were. 
In  spite  of  this  imperial  epistle,  the  Comedie-Fran- 
gaise  promptly  proceeded  to  elect  unanimously  M. 
Coquelin  and  M.  Worms.  The  public  hoped  this 
would  be  the  end  of  the  scandal,  but  two  weeks 
later  the  Minister  confirmed  M.  Coquelin's  election 
and  refused  to  confirm  M.  Worms,  alleging  for  one 
thing  that  he  was  yet  young  and  could  wait,  he  be- 


The  Actors  of  the  Come'die-Fran$aise.        135 

ing  at  that  time  twenty-eight,  while  M.  Coquelin 
was  only  twenty-two.  M.  Worms  sent  in  his  resig- 
nation, and  was  at  once  engaged  for  the  French 
theatre  at  St.  Petersburg,  where  he  remained 
nearly  ten  years,  returning  to  France,  to  act  in  M. 
Sardou's  "  Ferreol,"  and  then  to  be  welcomed  to 
the  Theatre  Fran£ais  with  open  arms.  Shortly 
after  M.  Worms  left  Paris  for  Russia,  Mile.  Riquier 
was  arbitrarily  made  an  associate. 

Under  the  Republic  which  now  rules  France 
the  Comedie-Francaise  is  left  to  itself,  to  the  great 
advantage  of  the  stage.  If  the  present  government 
of  France  move  at  all  in  dramatic  matters,  it  will 
surely  be  to  extend  an  added  honor  to  the  art. 
Hitherto  no  actor,  while  he  remained  actively 
on  the  stage,  has  been  decorated  with  the  cross  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor.  This  distinction,  which  has 
been  lavished  on  every  second-rate  novelist  and 
dramatist  and  journalist,  even  the  most  eminent 
actors  have  died  without.  It  was  only  bestowed 
upon  M.  Regnier  after  he  had  definitely  retired 
from  the  stage.  It  seems  likely  now  that  this  sur- 
vival of  mediaeval  prejudice  will  die  out  soon  ;  and 
the  chance  of  this  occurring  is  none  the  less  for  the 
fact  that  M.  Coquelin  is  one  of  the  most  intimate 
of  M.  Gambetta's  personal  friends. 


CHAPTER   V-III. 

THE   THEATRE   FRANCAIS. 

DURING  every  visit  I  have  made  to  Paris,  the 
performances  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise  have  been 
to  me  a  source  of  unfailing  delight.  Players  might 
vary  in  value,  now  and  then  an  actor  might  even 
seem  wholly  out  of  place  there,  and  plays  might  at 
times  be  poor  and  unworthy  of  acting  so  fine ;  but 
there  was  always  a  delightful  something  in  the  at- 
mosphere of  the  House  of  Moliere  which  suggested 
that  here  at  least  the  drama  was  an  art,  and  that 
this  was  its  shrine ;  and  which  reminded  me  that 
here  for  now  two  centuries  and  more  the  fire  lighted 
by  the  hand  of  the  master  had  been  watched  and 
tended  by  faithful  guardians. 

About  the  company,  the  actors  and  actresses 
who  have  succeeded  to  the  places  and  the  parts  of 
Moliere  and  his  comrades,  much  has  been  written 
of  late — not  always  profitably,  as  I  fear  the  readers 
of  the  two  foregoing  chapters  will  only  be  too  ready 
to  admit.  But  about  the  Theatre  Frangais  itself, 
the  actual  edifice  in  which  these  players  play  their 
parts,  and  within  which  are  imprisoned  infinite 
memories  and  traditions  of  the  French  drama,  less 
is  known.  To  the  courtesy  of  M.  Coquelin  (to 

136 


The  ThJdtre  Fran$ais. 


137 


whom  I  here  take  pleasure  in  recording  my  thanks) 
I  owe  the  pleasure  of  a  visit  to  the  Theatre  Fran- 
c_ais  and  a  journey  all  over  it  with  him  as  my  guide. 
And  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  spent  time  more 
pleasantly  or  more  profitably  than  the  two  hours 
during  which  I  rambled  over  the  House  of  Moliere 


THEATRE   FRANCAIS. 

in  company  with  one  who  plays  worthily  many  of 
Moliere's  own  parts. 

As  a  theatre  merely,  the  Theatre  Fran^ais  has 
been  overshadowed  of  late  by  the  fame  of  M.  Gar- 
nier's  imperial  opera-house ;  but  it  is  a  well-made 
and  good-looking  building,  as  any  one  can  see  who 
takes  a  glance  at  the  portrait  of  it  which  illustrates 


138  Ike  Theatres  of  Paris. 

this  chapter.  Although  it  is  not  as  fine  or  as  florid 
as  M.  Garnier's  Opera,  although  it  did  not  spring  at 
once  from  an  architect's  brain  planned  in  all  its 
particulars,  although  it  is  not  even  the  work  of  a 
single  architect — it  is  excellently  adapted  for  its 
purpose,  and  is  indeed  a  model  of  what  a  theatre 
should  be  which  is  intended  for  the  full  enjoyment 
of  acting  of  an  intellectual  order,  comedy  or  trag- 
edy. The  auditorium  is  just  of  the  right  size  for 
every  word  to  be  clearly  heard  by  all :  the  galleries, 
which  are  shallow,  contain  but  a  row  or  two  of 
chairs  and  a  tier  of  boxes,  so  that  all  of  the  four- 
teen hundred  spectators  can  see  distinctly  the 
slightest  play  of  feature. 

The  theatre  now  occupied  by  the  Comedie-Fran- 
caise  was  opened  in  1789  as  the  theatre  of  Varietes 
Amusants.  In  1791  a  schism  had  been  operated 
in  the  Comedie-Francaise,  which  was  then  the  ten- 
ant of  the  theatre  now  called  the  Odeon,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Seine.  This  schism  was  caused 
by  the  growing,  not  to  say  glowing,  heat  of  politi- 
cal feeling.  Talma  and  his  republican  sympathiz- 
ers crossed  over  the  river  to  the  Varietes  Amu- 
sants, and  here,  after  the  Directory  came  in  power, 
the  rest  of  the  company  were  gathered  to  them. 
From  time  to  time  various  improvements  have  been 
made  in  the  building.  In  1864  the  Palais  Royal 
was  partly  reconstructed,  and  in  the  alterations  the 
Theatre  Fran£ais  gained  space  for  a  noble  staircase 


The  Thtdtre  Franqais.  1 39 

and  for  the  fmz  foyer,  or  public  reception-room,  in 
which  the  audience  may  pass  the  tedious  waits. 
There  is  now  no  orchestra  at  the  Theatre  Francois 
to  enliven  the  waits  with  more  or  less  popular 
music.  There  was  once,  and  for  a  time  M.  Jacques 
Offenbach  was  the  leader,  but  several  years  ago  it 
was  abolished. 

It  was  to  find  time  for  needed  cleaning  and  mod- 
ifications of  their  theatre,  and  for  the  artistic  deco- 
ration of  the  auditorium,  that  the  Comedie-Fran- 
^aise  took  its  trip  to  London  during  the  summer  of 
1879.  Much  adverse  criticism  was  passed  upon  the 
company  for  crossing  the  Channel.  It  was  even 
unkindly  hinted  that,  neglecting  the  cause  of  art, 
the  actors  and  actresses  had  gone  to  London  to 
speculate  on  their  reputation  and  to  coin  their 
fame  into  francs. 

Nothing  could  be  less  exact.  The  Come'die- 
Frangaise  had  no  interest  whatever  in  the  receipts 
of  the  Gaiety  Theatre  in  London.  M.  Perrin  made 
an  arrangement  with  the  manager  of  that  theatre 
to  cross  the  Channel,  acompanied  by  the  whole 
Com^die-Frangaise,  and  to  give  a  series  of  per- 
formances for  a  fixed  sum  of  six  thousand  francs  a 
performance.  A  contract  to  this  effect  was  made 
for  the  express  purpose  of  clearing  the  reputation 
of  the  Comedie-Franc_aise  from  any  suggestion  of 
a  desire  to  speculate  on  its  renown.  Not  only  did 
the  actors  and  actresses  of  the  company  undergo 


140  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

the  manifold  fatigues  and  discomforts  of  an  ex- 
hausting campaign  on  foreign  soil,  but  they  appro- 
priated from  their  own  treasury,  for  the  decoration 
of  the  Theatre  Franc_ais,  a  sum  in  excess  of  the 
total  amount  they  were  to  receive  for  their  services 
in  England.  When  they  returned  to  Paris,  they 
found  their  house  swept  and  garnished,  and,  what 
was  better  still,  a  cordial  welcome  home  at  the 
hands  of  the  Parisians. 

Under  the  arcade  of  the  Rue  St.  Honor£  is  the 
stage  door.  It  is  not,  like  other  stage-doors,  hid 
up  an  alley  :  it  is  in  the  centre  of  the  building  and 
close  to  the  main  entrance  for  the  public.  A  glance 
at  the  engraving  will  show  its  position  ;  it  is  under 
the  arcade,  about  where  the  carriage  stands.  It 
leads  to  a  handsome  staircase,  where  we  see  the  be- 
ginning of  the  large  gallery  of  pictures  and  statuary 
belonging  to  the  Comedie-Franc.aise,  perhaps  the 
finest  collection  of  portraits  of  dramatic  authors 
and  dramatic  artists  in  existence  anywhere — a  col- 
lection indeed  so  large  that  it  is  too  much  for  the 
space  the  Com£die  can  give  it,  and  so  it  needs  must 
overflow  out  upon  the  staircase — where  we  see  the 
large  portrait  of  Rachel  by  M.  J.  L.  Gerome — and 
upon  the  passage  connecting  the  stage  with  the 
green-room,  a  passage  called  the  Gallery  of  Busts, 
and  well  lined  with  marble  portraits  of  many 
an  eminent  actor  and  actress  who  in  the  past  have 
honored  the  history  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais. 


The  Thtdtre  Franqais.  141 

Opening  off  this  passage  is  a  room  used  as  a 
dressing-room  by  any  actor  needing  to  make  a 
hasty  change  of  costume  in  the  course  of  an  act, 
and  not  having  time  to  go  to  his  own  private  room, 
two  or  three  flights  higher  up.  This  little  room  is 
hung  with  portraits  of  Mademoiselle  Clairon  as 
Medea,  of  David  Garrick,  Mademoiselle  Mars,  and 
of  Adrienne  Lecouvreur.  At  one  end  of  this  pas- 
sage is  the  stage,  which  of  necessity  is  bare  of  all 
artistic  adornment  other  than  the  scenery ;  and 
how  beautiful  this  is  I  need  not  remind  those  who 
have  been  to  this  theatre  of  late,  or  those  who  re- 
member that  M.  Perrin,  the  manager,  is  himself  a 
painter,  a  critic  of  art,  and  a  pupil  of  Gros  and 
Delaroche.  At  one  side  of  the  stage  is  a  sort  of 
cabin,  comfortably  furnished,  and  used  each  even- 
ing by  the  actors  in  the  piece  while  they  are  not 
before  the  audience.  The  stage  itself,  M.  Coquelin 
told  me,  is  the  best  he  had  ever  played  on,  and  so 
far  as  he  could  see  it  had  no  faults. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  Gallery  of  Busts  is  the 
foyer  of  the  artists,  or,  as  we  should  call  it,  the 
green-room.  Here  are  hung  the  most  important  of 
the  pictorial  treasures  of  the  Com£die — first  and 
foremost  the  fine  portrait  of  Moliere  by  Mignard, 
his  friend  and  companion.  Then  there  is  a  very 
curious  painting,  dated  1670,  three  years  before  the 
death  of  Moliere,  representing  in  incongruous  med- 
ley "  the  French  and  Italian  farce-actors  since  sixty 


142  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

years  and  more;  "  and  here, amid  Scaramouche,  and 
Dominique,  the  harlequin  of  the  Italian  comedians, 
and  Gautier  Garguille,  and  Guillot  Gorju,  and  Gros 
Guillaume,  and  Jodelet,  and  other  mere  fun-makers 
of  the  French  stage  of  that  day,  far  over  on  the 
left  of  the  picture,  stands  the  great  and  grave  hu- 
morist. This  painting,  which  has  not  yet  been  en- 
graved, is  of  great  interest ;  it  was  discovered  almost 
by  accident  a  few  years  ago  by  M.  Regnier. 

Yet  another  picture  of  Moliere  is  here ;  it  is  a 
wretched  little  painting  by  Ingres,  given  by  him  to 
the  Com6die,  and  depicting,  years  before  M.  Ch- 
rome attempted  the  subject,  the  breakfast  which 
Louis  XIV.  is  said  to  have  offered  to  Moliere — a 
story  which  we  know  now  to  be  without  any  foun- 
dation in  fact.  And  yet,  false  as  the  anecdote  is, 
it  is  generally  believed  and  frequently  quoted,  and 
two  painters  of  repute  have  aided  in  giving  it  cur- 
rency. 

It  can  therefore  be  scarcely  considered  a  digres- 
sion to  give  the  facts  of  the  case.  In  his  invaluable 
volume  on  the  history  of  the  "  French  Theatre 
under  Louis  XIV.,"  the  late  Eugene  Despois  de- 
voted a  whole  chapter  to  the  demolition  of  this 
tale,  which  he  sarcastically  entitles  the  legend  of  the 
"  en  cas  de  nuit " — the  repast  always  kept  ready 
during  night  "  in  case "  the  king  might  hunger. 
As  we  know,  Moliere  was  an  hereditary  valet-de- 
chambre  of  the  king,  and  as  such  assisted  in  the 


The  J^k^dtre  Franqais.  143 

formal  making  of  the  king's  bed.  According  to  the 
anecdote,  some  of  the  noble  valets  objected  to  such 
association  with  a  comedian.  To  rebuke  them, 
Louis  XIV.  ordered  in  the  repast  that  was  always 
in  readiness  against  his  royal  hunger,  and,  com- 
manding Moliere  to  sit  down,  his  majesty  himself 
helped  him  to  the  wing  of  a  chicken,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  discomfited  courtiers.  This  is  a  very 
pretty  story,  and  it  is  almost  a  pity  that  it  is  not 
true.  But  the  evidences  in  its  favor  are  so  slight  as 
to  be  wellnigh  valueless,  and  the  evidence  against 
it  is  so  strong  as  to  be  wellnigh  overwhelming.  In 
the  fierce  light  which  beat  upon  his  throne  we  see 
the  life  of  Louis  XIV.  as  we  can  see  that  of  but  few 
men.  Every  incident  of  his  long  reign  is  down  in 
black  and  white  in  the  interminable  memoirs  and 
correspondence  of  the  time.  But  in  neither  letter 
nor  diary  is  there  any  reference  to  an  incident 
which  in  the  eyes  of  the  courtiers  would  have  been 
of  unexampled  importance.  The  story  was  first 
made  public  in  1823,  in  the  memoirs  of  Mme.  Cam- 
pan,  who  said  she  had  it  from  her  father,  who  had 
it  from  an  old  physician-in-ordinary  to  Louis  XIV. 
Since  1823  it  has  been  repeated  time  and  again. 
But  there  is  positive  evidence  to  corroborate  the 
negative.  Saint-Simon  declares  distinctly  that,  ex- 
cept in  the  army,  the  king  never  ate  with  any  man, 
not  even  with  the  princes  of  the  blood-royal,  ex- 
cepting only  at  the  feasts  he  gave  them  at  their 


144  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

weddings.  In  short,  the  story  rests  solely  upon  the 
second-hand  authority  of  an  anonymous  physician. 

Next  in  interest  to  the  Moliere  pictures  are  two 
large  groups  of  the  company  of  the  Theatre  Fran- 
c.ais,  painted  by  M.  Geffroy,  an  associate,  now  re- 
tired. In  the  earlier  group,  which  dates  back 
almost  twenty-five  years,  Mademoiselle  Mars  and 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  are  the  central  figures ;  and 
in  the  later,  which  is  between  ten  and  fifteen  years 
old,  Madame  Plessy  seems  to  hold  the  place  of 
honor.  Surrounding  these  pictures,  and  completely 
covering  on  all  sides  the  walls  of  the  room,  which 
is  not  unduly  large,  are  portraits  of  many  of  the 
greatest  of  the  actors  of  the  past  who  have  been 
members  of  the  Comedie-Frangaise,  beginning  with 
one  of  Baron,  the  pupil  and  friend  of  Moliere,  and 
ending  with  one  of  Rachel  by  M.  Dubufe. 

Two  and  three  flights  of  stairs  above  the  green- 
room are  the  dressing-rooms  of  the  actors  and  ac- 
tresses. These  are  not  the  dingy  and  dirty  little 
cubby-holes  which  disgrace  many  of  our  theatres. 
Most  of  them  are  good  large  rooms,  with  two  wide 
windows  opening  on  the  Rue  St.  Honore.  The 
one  into  which  I  was  admitted  was  hung  with  an- 
tique tapestiy  and  made  comfortable  by  heavy  oak 
furniture,  while  the  walls  were  adorned  with  sketches 
and  water-colors  by  the  regretted  Henri  Regnault, 
by  M.  J.  G.  Vibert,  and  by  M.  Madrazo.  The  work 
of  this  last  artist  was  a  portrait  of  M.  Coquelin,  the 


.> 


The  The'dtre  Fran$ais.  147 

occupant  of  the  dressing-room,  as  Mascarille,  one  of 
his  best  parts. 

There  is  no  more  reason  why  an  actor  or  an  ac- 
tress should  put  up  with  a  mean  dressing-room, 
scant  in  size  and  unadorned  save  with  a  cheap 
chair  and  table,  than  an  artist  should  do  his  work 
in  a  bare  and  unsuggestive  and  unsympathetic 
studio.  The  actors  and  actresses  of  the  Comedie- 
FranQaise  are  masters  in  their  own  house,  and  they 
Have  given  themselves  apartments  of  which  an  artist 
has  no  reason  to  be  ashamed.  It  would,  indeed,  be 
inartistic  parsimony  for  associates  of  the  Comedic- 
Frangaise,  drawing  every  year  no  insignificant  in- 
come from  the  profits  of  their  labor,  if  they  should 
slight  their  own  material  accommodation  while  in 
the  Theatre  Fran^ais.  The  share  received  by  the 
leading  actors  and  actresses  for  their  services  during 
the  year  1879  varied  from  fifty-five  thousand  francs 
to  seventy  thousand.  Mile.  Croizette  took  the 
former  sum,  and  M.  Got  the  latter.  M.  Coquelin 
received  sixty-nine  thousand,  M.  Delaunay,  sixty- 
eight  thousand,  and  MM.  Febvre,  Worms,  Thiron, 
and  Maubant  each  sixty  thousand.  Mile.  Sarah- 
Bernhardt  had  for  her  share  sixty-two  thousand, 
while  Mmes.  Brohan  and  Favart  had  each  sixty 
thousand.  A  marshal  of  France  gets  but  thirty 
thousand  francs  a  year,  and  an  archbishop  fifteen 
thousand — besides,  in  both  cases,  incidental  allow- 
ances and  perquisites. 


148  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

The  public  foyer,  in  which  all  visitors  to  the 
Theatre  Francais  have  doubtless  passed  one  or 
more  quarters  of  an  hour  seeking  relief,  during  the 
long  tedious  waits  between  the  acts,  from  the  heat 
and  the  closeness  caused  by  the  insufficient  ventila- 
tion of  the  theatre — as  insufficient  even  here  as  in 
the  other  theatres  of  Paris — has  nearly  as  many 
works  of  art  as  the  green-room,  but  they  are  stat- 
uary, not  paintings.  The  square  lobby,  and  the 
long  and  narrow  gallery  which  runs  out  from  it, 
along  the  Rue  de  Richelieu,  are  lined  with  busts  of 
famous  French  dramatists.  In  the  lobby  are  vig- 
orous heads  of  Corneille  and  Rotrou  by  Caffieri. 

There  also  are  two  of  the  best  works  of  Houdori 
— the  bust  of  Moliere  and  the  remarkably  life-like 
seated  statue  of  Voltaire.  At  the  end  of  the  gal- 
lery, after  passing  a  dozen  busts  of  very  varying 
merit,  but  including  one  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau, 
by  Caffieri,  is  a  sitting  statue  of  George  Sand,  the 
only  woman,  with  the  exception  of  Madame  de 
Girardin,  it  may  be  mentioned,  who  has  ever  held 
a  foremost  place  among  the  dramatists  of  France. 
And  not  only  the  lobby  and  the  gallery,  but  all  the 
approaches  to  it — the  handsome  staircase  which 
rises  from  the  Rue  St.  Honor£,  the  vestibules  and 
waiting-rooms — all  are  decorated  with  statues  and 
busts.  On  the  ground  floor,  just  by  a  flight  of 
stairs,  is  a  striking  head  of  the  elder  Dumas,  the 
negro  blood  fully  apparent  in  the  thick  lips  and 


The  The'dtre  Frangais.  149 

flattened  nose  of  this  most   fertile  of  all  French 
novelists. 

In  the  brilliant  preface  (not  long  published)  to  his 
latest  play,  the  "  Etrangere,"  acted  with  popular 
approval  at  this  theatre,  the  younger  M.  Dumas 
looks  into  the  future,  wondering  whether  anything 
of  his  may  survive  the  attack  of  time.  One  passage 
calls  for  quotation  here  : 

"  Those  who,  like  myself,  have  had  some  few 
pieces  represented  on  the  stage  of  the  Theatre 
Frangais  have  rather  more  chance  than  the  others 
•—even  when  their  comedies  are  no  longer  played — 
of  being  occasionally  spoken  of,  because  of  the 
marble  busts  of  them  which  the  committee  can,  if 
it  likes,  place  on  the  stairway,  the  lobby,  or  the  ves- 
tibules. If  that  honor  is  ever  accorded  me,  they 
will  probably  place  the  bust  which  Carpeaux  made 
of  me  opposite  the  bust  which  Chapu  made  of  my 
father,  at  the  foot  of  the  grand  staircase.  We  shall 
then  look  on,  without  seeing  them,  at  all  the  beau- 
ties who  pass  into  the  play,  and  when  they  come 
down,  after  the  performance,  perhaps  one  of  them, 
while  she  awaits  her  carriage,  will  cast  a  nonchalant 
glance  upon  the  marble  image,  and  will  say  some- 
thing— no  matter  what — about  the  man  and  his 
work.  Thanks,  madam,  thanks  in  advance ;  one 
could  scarcely  hope  for  more,  and,  as  for  myself, 
that  little  corner  immortality  would  completely 
satisfy  me." 


150  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

At  the  side  of  the  main  entrance  are  seated 
statues  of  Mademoiselle  Mars  as  "  Comedy"  and 
Mademoiselle  Rachel  as  "  Tragedy." 

Since  my  visit  to  the  Theatre  Frangais,  M.  Ren6 
Delorme  has  published  "  The  Museum  of  the  Come- 
die-Frangaise,"  an  ample  volume  of  over  two  hun- 
dred quarto  pages,  in  which  the  riches  of  Moliere's 
house  are  set  forth  in  order,  exactly,  and  with  ful- 
ness. Hereafter  a  visitor  to  the  Theatre  Frangais 
need  not  rely  wholly  on  the  word-of-mouth  cata- 
logue of  his  courteous  conductors,  for  here  in  print 
is  a  seemingly  complete  list  of  the  treasures  of  the 
building.  M.  Delorme  points  out  that  this  museum 
(for  such  is  the  theatre  in  reality)  is  but  little  known, 
even  to  Parisians,  for  want  perhaps  of  a  list  of  its 
contents ;  and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  contains 
pictures  by  Mignard,  Van  Loo,  David,  Gros,  Ingres, 
Delacroix,  Isabey,  Dubufe,  Gerome,  and  Robert- 
Fleury,  and  statues  by  Houdon,  Caffieri,  Dantan, 
Clesinger,  and  David  d'Angers. 

The  museum  is  about  a  hundred  years  old,  and 
M.  Delorme  gives  us  a  history  of  its  growth.  In 
1777,  when  the  company  owned  a  picture  or  two, 
Caffieri  proposed  to  found  a  gallery  of  great  French 
dramatists  and  actors,  to  which  he  himself  made 
the  first  contributions.  In  1815  there  were  a  dozen 
paintings  and  nearly  two  dozen  marbles.  In  1850 
M.  Arsene  Houssaye  became  the  director,  and  his 
artistic  taste  gave  great  impulse  to  the  collection, 


The  Theatre  Franqais.  151 

which  has  continued  to  grow  under  the  present 
director,  M.  Emile  P6rrin.  The  total  catalogue  of 
works  of  art  now  belonging  to  the  Come"die-Fran- 
gaise  reckons  over  three  hundred  numbers,  includ- 
ing one  hundred  and  seventy-one  pictures  and 
seventy-seven  marbles. 

Away  up  in  the  fourth  story,  high  over  the  public 
lobby  and  its  gallery,  along  the  Rue  de  Richelieu, 
are  the  archives  and  the  library.  Here  in  long' and 
narrow  apartments,  lighted  by  frequent  windows 
overlooking  the  Place  du  Theatre  Francais,  are 
freely  opened  the  invaluable  records  of  the  theatre 
which  was  founded  over  two  hundred  years  ago 
by  the  greatest  of  French  dramatists,  and  which  in 
its  two  centuries  of  existence  has  produced  fresh 
from  the  author's  pen  the  best  works  of  the  best 
of  his  successors — precious  manuscripts  from  the 
hands  of  most  of  whom  are  here  jealously  hoarded. 

Here  is  the  series  of  registers  for  each  year — 
registers  in  which  is  noted  day  by  day  every  inci- 
dent of  the  history  of  the  Comedie  ;  the  reading  and 
reception  of  every  new  play ;  its  cast ;  its  success 
when  produced  ;  the  nightly  receipts  ;  and  the  tran- 
sient indisposition  of  any  performer.  This  long  line 
of  registers  begins  with  that  more  precious  than 
any,  written  in  his  own  hand,  by  Charles  Varlet  de 
La  Grange,  the  fellow-actor  of  Moliere,  his  succes- 
sor in  the  post  of  orateur,  or  spokesman  of  the  com- 
pany, during  the  great  humorist's  life,  and  after  his 


152  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

death  the  real  head  of  the  company  he  left  behind 
him.  There  are  no  breaks  in  this  succession  of 
annual  records,  save  that  the  volume  for  1740  has 
been  lost,  and  that  caused  by  the  dispersion  of  the 
Comedie-Francaise  in  1793  ;  it  was  no  time  then  to 
act  or  register  acting.  In  the  words  of  the  old 
Mazarinade, 

Comedians,  c'est  mauvais  temps, 
La  Tragedie  est  par  les  champs. 

Owing  to  this  dispersion  the  archives  of  the  Com£- 
die  Francaise  were  in  a  sorry  state  of  confusion  ; 
books  and  papers  of  all  kinds  were  heaped  together 
on  the  floor  in  closets,  wholly  without  order. 

It  is  only  within  the  last  twenty-five  years,  and 
since  the  appointment  of  the  late  Leon  Guillard  as 
archivist  and  librarian,  that  the  records  have  been 
arranged.  And  when  they  were  finally  set  in  order, 
many  a  treasure  was  discovered  amongst  them — 
autographs,  letters,  manuscripts  of  all  kinds,  of 
authors,  of  actors  and  actresses,  of  courtiers,  critics, 
and  literary  people  of  all  grades.  There  is,  for  in- 
stance, a  holograph  manuscript  of  the  "  Marriage  of 
Figaro,"  which,  with  many  another  document  here 
preserved  and  thus  recently  brought  to  light,  has 
been  utilized  by  MM.  d'Heylli  and  Marescot  in 
their  excellent  four-volume  edition  of  Beaumar- 
chais's  plays.  The  library  owes  its  existence  for 
the  most  part  to  M.  Guillard,  who  began  to  gather 


The  Thtdtre  Frangais.  153 

theatrical  books  of  all  classes — memoirs,  criticisms, 
editions  of  dramatists,  etc.  The  collection  is  only 
promising  as  yet,  and  not  to  be  compared  with  the 
ample  body  of  books  which  M.  Nuitter  has  got 
together  at  the  Op6ra.  Both  collections,  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  add,  are  readily  thrown  open  to  any 
visitor  who  comes  properly  introduced. 

After  the  death  of  M.  Guillard,  M.  Frangois 
Coppe"e,  the  poet,  and  the  author  of  the  lovely 
"  Violin-maker  of  Cremona,"  acted  at  this  theatre, 
was  appointed  archivist ;  and  the  onerous  post  of 
librarian  was  given  to  M.  Monval,  an  erudite  in  the 
past  of  the  French  drama,  and  the  author  of  a  his- 
tory of  the  Odeon  Theatre.  Before  taking  leave  of 
the  archives  which  he  guards  with  such  cheerful 
courtesy,  let  me  quote  one  of  the  many  autographs 
which  in  frames  line  the  walls  of  the  library  where 
these  are  not  covered  with  books.  It  is  the  epitaph 
on  Moliere  written  by  the  hand  of  Lafontaine,  and 
signed  as  you  see : 

Sur  Moliere. 

Sous  ce  tombeau  gisent  Plaute  et  Terence, 
Et  cependant  le  seul  Moliere  y  gist, 
Leurs  trois  talens  ne  formoient  qu'un  esprit 
Dont  le  bel  art  rejouissoit  la  f ranee. 
Us  sont  partis  !  et  j'ay  peu  d'espe'rance 
De  les  revoir.     Malgre  tous  nos  efforts 
Pour  un  long  temps,  selon  toute  apparence, 
Terence,  et  Plaute,  et  Moliere  sont  morts. 

DELAFONTAINE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  OTHER  COMEDY  THEATRES. 

THE  early  history  of  the  Parisian  stage  is  filled 
with  the  recital  .of  the  wars  waged  by  the  three 
royal  and  privileged  theatres  against  their  unau- 
thorized rivals.  The  story  is  very  like  that  of  the 
strife  of  the  patent  theatres  in  London  against 
their  intermittent  competitors.  In  Paris  the  three 
privileged  theatres  were  the  Opera,  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise,  and  the  Italian  Comedy  (which  afterward 
became  the  Opera  Comique).  They  claimed  that 
a  royal  patent  conferred  exclusive  rights ;  but  the 
advocates  of  liberty  were  finally  successful,  and  in 
1795  there  were  fifty-one  theatres  open  at  once  in 
Paris.  In  1807  Napoleon  suppressed  all  but  eight, 
and  rigidly  restricted  each  of  the  survivors  to  a 
special  style  of  performance.  This  forbade  anything 
like  rivalry,  and  from  want  of  healthy  competition 
stagnation  would  have  resulted,  if  the  decree  had 
not  been  partly  abrogated  upon  the  Restoration. 
In  1867  it  was  totally  abolished;  and  since  then 
the  number  of  theatres  in  Paris  and  its  suburbs 
has  rapidly  grown.  There  are  now  not  far  from 
fifty  places  of  amusement  which  one  may  fairly 
enough  call  theatres. 


The  Other  Comedy  Theatres.  .  155 

f 

It  will  be  obviously  impossible  to  consider  all 
these  establishments  in  detail  ;  the  more  important 
must  be  selected  for  description.  For  the  purpose 
of  critical  examination,  the  theatres  of  Paris — ex- 
cluding the  various  opera-houses  already  fully 
treated,  and  the  Theatre  Fran$ais — may  be  roughly 
divided  into  three  broad  classes.  First,  those  de- 
voting themselves  especially  to  comedy,  and  in  a 
measure  saying  ditto  to  the  Theatre  Frangais. 
Second,  those  of  ampler  size  and  appealing  to  large 
audiences,  with  the  alternating  attractions  of  melo- 
drama and  spectacle.  And  thirdly,  the  houses  of 
entertainment  of  an  altogether  lighter  and  brighter 
class,  enticing  the  passer-by  with  farce  and  extrava- 
ganza, with  vaudeville  and  opera  bouffe,  with  paro- 
dies and  pieces  of  pleasantry  of  all  kinds. 

In  the  first  class  are  to  be  included  the  Ode"on, 
or  Second  Theatre  Frangais,  the  Gymnase  Drama- 
tique,  the  Vaudeville,  and  perhaps  a  more  distant 
and  less  important  house  which  now  calls  itself  the 
Third  Theatre  Fran§ais.  It  is  this  class  of  theatre 
which,  in  some  respects,  is  the  most  interesting  to 
the  American  inquirer,  because  it  is  only  with  these 
that  any  comparison  can  fairly  be  made  with  the 
best  of  our  American  theatres. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  when  we  speak  of 
the  superiority  of  the  French  stage  to  our  own — a 
superiority  which  it  would  be  futile  to  deny — what 
is  meant  is  not  that  all  the  acting  in  Paris  is  good, 


156  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

or  that  all  the  acting  in  New  York  is  bad.  There 
are  probably  now  not  only  as  good  actors,  but  as 
many  good  actors  in  the  United  States  as  in  France. 
And  as  Mr.  Lewes  wrote  in  1865,  "there  is  abun- 
dance of  bad  acting  to  be  seen  in  Paris  as  else- 
where." 

The  remark  is  as  true  now  as  it  was  fifteen  years 
ago.  Many  of  the  secondary  companies  in  Paris 
are  but  little,  if  any,  better  than  companies  of 
corresponding  position  here.  I  certainly  have  seen 
one  performance  in  Paris  as  bad  as  any  I  ever 
saw  in  New  York.  And  the  provincial  theatres 
of  France  are  said  to  be  in  a  deplorable  state. 
It  has  been  pointed  out  that,  owing  to  the  cen- 
tralization, which  is  the  great  curse  of  France, 
the  capital  monopolizes  the  best  actors,  and  gath- 
ers them  into  a  few — a  very  few  indeed — strong 
and  select  stock  companies.  The  stranger,  see- 
ing that  these  few  theatres  in  Paris  give  finer  and 
fuller  performances  of  comedy  than  any  theatre 
in  London  or  New  York,  not  unnaturally  infers 
that  the  whole  stage  of  France  is  just  so  much  bet- 
ter than  the  whole  stage  of  England  or  America. 

Theatrically  speaking,  Paris  is  France ;  but  New 
York  is  not  the  United  States.  I  doubt  whether 
there  are  better  actors  in  France  than  the  United 
States,  although  Paris  presents  many  more  than 
New  York.  I  doubt  whether  there  are  any  actors 
in  France  who,  in  their  respective  lines,  are  more 


The  Other  Comedy  Theatres.  157 

richly  gifted  or  better  trained  than  Mr.  Joseph 
Jefferson,  or  Mr.  Lester  Wallack,  or  Mr.  W.  J. 
Florence,  or  Mr.  J.  H.  Stoddart ;  although,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  have  no  M.  Got,  no  M.  Coquelin, 
no  M.  Delaunay.  But  M.  Got  and  M.  Coquelin 
and  M.  Delaunay  are  all  in  one  theatre,  and  at 
times  are  cast  in  one  play,  and  have  for  years  been 
in  the  habit  of  playing  together;  while  Mr.  Flor- 
ence and  Mr.  Jefferson  and  Mr.  Stoddart  often  play 
a  thousand  miles  apart. 

The  French  are  not  cursed  with  the  "star"  sys- 
tem ;  they  will  not  tolerate  a  single  planet  set  in  a 
fading  cloud  of  star-dust.  And  thus  centralization 
and  the  habit  of  having  stock  companies  combine 
to  help  Paris  to  good  playing,  while  the  broad  ex- 
tent and  well-diffused  wealth  of  our  land  unite  with 
the  star  system  to  prevent  good  players  from  mass- 
ing together  here  in  New  York.  This,  and  not  any 
lack  of  good  actors,  is  the  reason  why  we  have  here 
no  theatre  equal  to  the  Gymnase  or  the  Vaudeville, 
not  to  mention  the  Comedie-Frangaise. 

It  would  doubtless  be  difficult,  even  if  possessed 
of  autocratic  power,  to  gather  from  all  the  United 
States  a  company  better  than  the  Comedie-Fran- 
c,aise — better,  that  is,  than  the  male  half  of  that 
admirable  assemblage  of  picked  comedians  ;  the 
female  half,  as  we  ,have  seen,  in  spite  of  several 
personalities  of  strange  and  pungent  flavor,  is  not 
at  all  on  the  same  artistic  level.  It  would  certainly 


I58 


The  Theatres  of  Paris. 


be  impossible,  in  the  United  States,  to  compose, 
off-hand  and  at  once,  a  company  which  should  im- 
mediately begin  to  work  together  as  smoothly  as 
the  traditions  and  restraints  of  two  hundred  years 
of  existence  enabled  the  comedians  of  the  Theatre 
Fran£ais  to  work.  But  from  the  theatres  of  New 
York,  from  out  of  the  stock  companies  of  this  one 


city,  could  readily  be  chosen  a  company  which, 
after  it  should  have  time  to  get  into  working  order, 
would  compare  not  unfavorably  with  that  of  the 
Od6on,  or  of  the  Vaudeville,  or  of  the  Gymnase. 

The  Od£on  theatre  was  built  under  Louis  XVI., 
and  was  occupied  for  a  while  by  the  Com^die- 
Frangaise.  It  is  one  of  the  largest  houses  in 


The  Other  Comedy  Theatres.  159 

Paris,  containing  seventeen  hundred  places.  It  has 
the  distinction  of  having  been  the  first  theatre  in 
which  those  admitted  to  the  pit  were  provided  with 
seats.  The  "  Marriage  of  Figaro,"  the  forerunner  of 
the  Revolution,  was  originally  acted  at  the  Ode'on. 
In  1799  the  theatre  was  burned,  and  the  Come' die- 
Franchise  crossed  the  river  again  to  the  Palais 
Royal.  Rebuilt,  it  was  called  the  Theatre  of  the 
Empress.  Two  incidents  of  its  early  career  are  of 
interest  to  Americans :  at  different  times  two  French 
plays  on  the  career  of  the  Father  of  his  Country, 
were  acted  within  its  walls.  July  I3th,  1791,  two 
years  before  the  reign  of  terror,  saw  the  first  per- 
formance of  "  Washington  ;  or,  Liberty  in  the  New 
World,"  a  drama  in  four  acts,  by  Sauvigny,  one  of 
the  Royal  Censors.  January  5th,  1813,  two  years 
before  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  witnessed  the  pro- 
duction of  "  Washington  ;  or,  Retaliation,"  a  drama 
in  three  acts,  by  Henri  Lacoste.  This  last,  we  are 
told  by  the  historian  of  the  Ode'on,  M.  Monval, 
now  the  librarian  of  the  Theatre  Fran^ais,  but  at 
one  time  an  actor  at  the  Ode'on,  was  a  great  suc- 
cess. 

In  1818  the  theatre  was  burnt  again,  but  at  once 
rebuilt  by  the  order  of  Louis  XVIII.,  who  gave  it 
permission  to  act  all  the  plays  of  the  classic  reper- 
tory, hitherto  the  exclusive  right  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran9aise.  It  was  at  this  time  that  the  Odeon 
became  the  second  Theatre  Frangais,  a  title  which 


160  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

it  retains  to  the  present  day.  It  keeps  a  certain 
number  of  classic  comedies  and  tragedies  constantly 
in  readiness,  in  return  for  which  and  for  bringing 
out  the  plays  of  young  authors,  it  receives  an  an- 
nual subsidy  from  the  state.  Without  this  govern- 
mental aid  it  would  barely  be  able  to  exist,  for  its 
situation  is  unfortunate,  and  in  spite  of  a  long  list 
of  brilliant  successes,  its  history  is  for  the  most  part 
a  record  of  failures.  It  is  the  centre  of  the  students' 
quarter,  and  they  are  rather  hard  customers  to 
please.  It  was  here  that  M.  Victorien  Sardou's  first 
play  was  acted ;  it  was  a  comedy  in  verse  called 
the  "  Student's  Tavern  ; "  and  it  was  damned  out 
of  hand. 

In  general  the  use  of  the  Odeon  has  been  to  feed 
the  Theatre  Francais  with  plays  and  players.  Many 
of  the  best  modern  pieces  in  the  repertory  of  the 
Theatre  Francais  have  been  borrowed  from  the 
Odeon.  Many  of  the  important  actors  and  actresses 
now  at  the  Comedie-Fran£aise  have  come  to  it  from 
the  Odeon. 

It  was  at  the  Odeon  that  Casimir  Delvigne  made 
his  first  great  hit  with  the  ''Sicilian  Vespers;" 
that  Ponsard  made  his  with  "  Lucrece ; "  that  M. 
Emile  Augier  made  his  with  the  lovely  little  com- 
edy of  classic  life,  the  "  Cigue  "  (the  "  Hemlock"); 
and  that  George  Sand  made  hers  with  the  "  Mar- 
quis of  Villemer."  The  latest  long  run  which  has 
taken  place  within  its  walls  is  the  "  Danicheffs," 


The  Other  Comedy  Theatres. 


161 


written  by  a  Russian  gentleman,  and  revised,  if  not 
remade  entirely,  by  M.  Dumas. 

The  Vaudeville  Theatre  was  founded  in  1792 
by  two  writers  of  light  musical  pieces,  who  had 
quarrelled  with  Sedaine,  then  the  manager  of  the 
Opera  Comique.  As  its  name  declared,  it  was  to 


VAUDEVILLE. 


be  devoted  to  vaudevilles.  In  the  original  sense  of 
the  word,  a  vaudeville  was  a  sort  of  occasional  epi- 
gram. Throughout  the  seventeenth  century  it  was 
the  name  given  to  the  numberless  personal  and 
political  ballads  of  the  period,  not  wanting  in  salt 
and  satire.  In  time  the  name  got  transferred  to 


1 62  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

little  plays  all  in  song.  These  in  turn  grew  in  im- 
portance. At  last  in  our  own  century  the  word 
came  to  have  a  definite  dramatic  meaning.  A 
vaudeville  is  now  a  play,  in  any  number  of  acts 
from  one  to  five,  on  any  sort  of  subject  (although 
it  is  almost  always  light  and  amusing),  but  with 
this  one  peculiarity — that  at  intervals  throughout 
the  piece,  songs  are  sung  to  well-known  airs.  In 
its  simplest  form  the  vaudeville  is  a  little  one-act 
play,  the  best  points  of  the  dialogue  of  which  the 
author  has  polished  into  epigrams  sung  to  the 
most  familiar  and  often  old-fashioned  airs.  With 
the  growth  of  opera  bouffe  the  vaudeville  has  de- 
clined ;  and  although  its  influence  is  still  marked 
on  the  minor  dramatic  literature  of  France,  there 
is  no  longer  in  Paris  any  theatre  set  apart  specially 
for  this  purely  French  form  of  entertainment. 

Even  at  the  Vaudeville  Theatre  itself,  it  is  now 
a  very  rare  thing  to  hear  a  vaudeville.  For  fifty 
years  the  Vaudeville  was  true  to  its  first  love,  in  the 
beginning  with  good  fortune,  in  the  end  with  un- 
mitigated ill-luck.  But  in  1852  there  was  brought 
out  at  the  Vaudeville  a  play,  by  the  son  of  the  great 
Dumas,  containing,  of  course,  the  one  song  which 
the  authorities  required  at  this  theatre  during  the 
reign  of  the  principle  of  confining  each  house  to 
its  special  department  of  the  drama.  This  play 
was  the  "  Dame  aux  Camelias,"  known  to  us  as 
"  Camille."  Of  its  success  it  us  unnecessary  to 


The  Other  Comedy  Theatres.  163 

speak.  It  was  followed  by  the  late  Theodore  Bar- 
riere's  "  Filles  de  Marbre,"  popular  even  now  on 
the  American  stage  as  the  "  Marble  Heart."  These 
two  plays  (the  latter  intended  as  an  antidote  to 
the  former)  have  suffered  grievously  in  process  of 
preparing  them  for  the  American  market.  For- 
tunately the  time  has  now  come  when  we  get 
our  dramatic  goods  in  the  original  package,  and 
can  judge  of  their  merits  for  ourselves. 

The  new  vein  of  rich  ore  which  the  Vaudeville 
had  struck,  by  accident  as  it  were,  it  has  continued 
to  work  ever  since  with  varying  fortune,  for  the 
most  part  favorable.  In  time  came  the  "  Romance 
of  a  Poor  Young  Man,"  of  M.  Octave  Feuillet, 
then  writing  in  his  earlier  and  sentimental  manner. 
A  few  years  later,  M.  Sardou  saw  his  "  Be"noiton 
Family  "  make  a  hit  which  he  has  never  since  been 
able  to  equal. 

In  1869  the  march  of  municipal  improvement 
found  the  Vaudeville  in  its  path.  It  was  situated 
then  opposite  the  Bourse,  the  Parisian  stock-ex- 
change. Forced  to  move,  the  city  authorities  built 
for  it  a  handsome  theatre,  in  a  very  advantageous 
position  in  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens.  It  had 
scarcely  got  settled  before  the  troubles  of  foreign 
and  intestine  war  came  upon  Paris,  and  broke  up 
all  chance  of  profit.  After  the  war,  it  took  some 
time  for  it  to  get  on  its  feet  again.  Then  came  the 
long  run  of  "  Pink  Dominoes."  Not  long  after,  in 


164  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

1877,  M.  Sardou,  who  had  given  it  two  political 
plays,  "  Rabagas"  and  "  Uncle  Sam,"  of  question- 
able success  and  of  unquestionable  bad  taste,  wrote 
for  it  one  of  his  finest  and  firmest  works,  "  Dora," 
which  we  know  in  America  in  the  Anglified  adap- 
tation called  "  Diplomacy." 

The  Gymnase  Dramatique  is  barely  threescore 
years  old,  having  been  opened  in  1820,  as  a  sort  of 
public  practice-room  for  the  graduates  of  the  Con- 
servatory. From  the  beginning  the  Gymnase  relied 
upon  the  fertile  pen  of  Eugene  Scribe,  who  wrote 
for  it  in  the  first  ten  years  of  its  career  fully  one 
hundred  and  fifty  plays — most  of  them,  it  is  true, 
in  one  act  only.  It  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say 
that  the  Gymnase  was  created  by  Scribe,  and  sus- 
tained by  him,  aided  by  the  army  of  collaborators 
to  whom  he  subsequently  dedicated  his  collected 
works. 

Bayard's  "  Fils  de  Famille  "  (known  in  America 
as  "The  Lancers")  was  one  of  the  early  successes 
of  the  Gymnase.  Its  main  dependence  was  for 
years  upon  M.  Sardou,  M.  Barriere,  and  the  younger 
M.  Dumas.  Although  it  was  at  the  Vaudeville 
that  M.  Dumas  gained  his  -first  victory  with  the 
"  Dame  aux  Cameras  "  (splendidly  played  by  Fech- 
ter  and  Madame  Doche),  he  was,  until  a  short  time 
ago,  bound  by  treaty  to  write  only  for  the  Gymnase. 
His  "  Monsieur  Alphonse  "  was  at  onetime  running 
there  contemporaneously  with  M.  Sardou's  "  Uncle 


The  Other  Comedy  Theatres.  165 

Sam  "  at  the  Vaudeville,  and  M.  Dumas  declared 
that  his  piece  was  better  than  M.  Sardou's,  for  he 
could  not  sit  out  "  Uncle  Sam,"  and  he  had  seven 
times  patiently  listened  to  "  M.  Alphonse." 

M.  Dumas  was  fortunate  in  rinding  at  the  Gym- 
nase  two  such  consummate  actresses  as  Mme.  Rose 
Cheri,  who  created  the  chief  part  in  his  "  Demi- 
Monde,"  and  Mile.  Desclee,  who  lent  to  the"  Prin- 
cess Georges  "  the  aid  of  her  extraordinary  ability. 

It  was  at  the  Gymnase  M.  Sardou  brought  out 
his  "  Pattes  de  Mouche,"  only  recently  acted  here 
in  New  York  as  the  "  Scrap  of  Paper."  At  the 
Gymnase  were  also  acted  M.  Sardou's  "  Fernande," 
and  "  S£raphine,"  and  "  Ferr£ol."  And  it  was  at 
the  Gymnase  that  Mile.  Desclee  gave  a  truthful 
portrait  of  the  wayward  heroine  of  MM.  Meilhac 
and  Halevy's  most  Parisian  comedy  "  Frou-frou," 
so  touchingly  acted  in  this  country  by  Miss  Agnes 
Ethel.  Of  late  the  Gymnase  has  not  been  in  luck. 
From  being  a  theatre  in  which  nearly  everything 
pleased  the  popular  taste,  it  has  become  a  theatre 
where  an  extended  list  of  failures  is  broken  now 
and  again  by  a  complete  triumph. 

Most  of  the  theatres  of  Paris  keep  up  the  old 
custom  of  prefixing  a  one-act  play  to  the  important 
play  which  forms  the  staple  of  the  evening's  en- 
tertainment. It  is  a  great  pity  that  this  is  no  longer 
the  fashion  in  this  country ;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped 
that  the  custom  will  not  fall  into  disuse  in  Paris. 


1 66  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

It  affords  a  young  author  an  opportunity  for  pre- 
senting himself  to  the  public,  and  of  trying  his 
wings,  so  to  speak,  before  attempting  a  loftier  flight. 
The  manager  who  might  well  hesitate  to  produce 
an  important  play  by  a  promising  beginner  can 
readily  afford  to  risk  a  little  one-act  comedy,  the 
failure  of  which  is  no  great  matter. 

An  amusing  anecdote  is  told  of  one  aspiring  but 
stuttering  dramatist,  who,  after  many  attempts,  was 
able  at  last  to  get  a  manager  to  listen  to  his  little 
play.  When  the  author,  whose  nervousness  had 
increased  his  impediment,  had  finished  reading  his 
act,  the  manager  delighted  him  with  the  assurance 
that  the  play  was  accepted  and  would  be  done 
speedily.  He  was  pleased  with  it,  he  added,  be- 
cause the  idea  was  so  new  ;  there  had  never  be- 
fore been  a  play  in  which  all  the  characters  stam- 
mered. 

"  B-b-but,"  hesitated  the  young  dramatist,  "  it  is 
I  th-th-that  s-stutter,  and  n-n-not  the  c-c-charac- 
ters ! " 

Whereupon  the  manager  abruptly  answered, 
"  Then  I  don't  care  for  the  piece !  Good  morn- 
ing!" 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   THEATRES   OF   DRAMA  AND   SPECTACLE. 

THERE  are  five  important  theatres  devoted  to 
drama  and  spectacular  pieces — the  Porte  St.  Martin, 
a  simple  but  dignified  building,  on  the  site  of  the 
old  house  destroyed  during  the  disturbances  of  the 
Commune  ;  the  Chatelet,  badly  injured  at  the  same 
time,  but  now  convalescent ;  the  Ambigu-Comique, 
once  unlucky  but  now  returning  to  favor;  the  Ly- 
rique,  intended  for  a  popular  opera-house,  but  at 
present  called  the  Theatre  des  Nations ;  and  the 
Chateau  d'Eau.  A  sixth  house,  the  Gaite,  belongs 
under  this  head,  although  for  the  moment  it  is  de- 
voted to  operatic  performances. 

Nearly  all  the  buildings  are  comparatively  mod- 
ern, yet  three  of  the  establishments  date  back 
into  the  last  century.  The  Porte  St.  Martin  was 
opened  in  1781,  the  Gaite  in  1772,  and  the  Am- 
bigu-Comique in  1769.  The  Porte  St.  Martin  was 
the  theatre  which  the  architect  Lenoir  built  in 
ninety  odd  days  for  the  Opera,  and  which,  as  I  have 
told  in  an  earlier  chapter,  the  profane  throng  were 
allowed  to  test  before  sacred  royalty  ventured  in. 
The  Gaite  and  the  Ambigu-Comique  at  first  were 
but  little  more  than  booths  in  which  various  shows 

167 


1 68  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

were  exhibited — gymnastics,  acrobatics,  rope-walk- 
ing, juggling,  feats  of  skill,  and  feats  of  strength, 
marionettes,  and  so  forth — all,  no  doubt  to  the 
great  amusement  of  the  good  people  of  Paris,  as 
well  as  of  the  noble  courtiers  who  also  came  to  see 
the  sights.  The  Gait£  was  at  first  called  the 
"  Theatre  of  the  King's  Great  Dancers."  Raree- 
shows  of  all  sorts  helped  to  make  up 

"  The  little  great,  the  infinite  small  thing 
That  ruled  the  hour  when  Louis  Quinze  was  king. 

"  For  these  were  yet  the  days  of  halcyon  weather, 

A  Martin's  summer,  when  the  nation  swam 
Aimless  and  easy  as  a  wayward  feather, 

Down  the  full  tide  of  jest  and  epigram; 
A  careless  time,  when  France's  bluest  blood 
Beat  to  the  tune  of  '  After  us  the  flood.'  " 

At  last  the  floods  came  and  beat  upon  that  royal 
house,  and  swept  it  away  into  outer  darkness.  And 
of  the  new-found  liberty  the  theatres  had  their 
full  share.  They  gave  up  the  acrobatic  for  the 
melodramatic,  and  juggled  with  the  emotions  in- 
stead of  three  gilt  balls.  While  they  were  seeking 
a  new  method  of  stirring  the  human  heart  some  dim 
echo  of  the  German  storm-and-stress  outbreak  seems 
to  have  come  from  the  frontier.  The  multitudin- 
ous and  well-made  German  melodrama  was  speed- 
ily naturalized  in  France,  then  ready  to  greet  any 
stranger  as  a  citizen.  The  new  style  was  improved 
by  French  skill,  and  it  met  at  once  with  popular 


The  Theatres  of  Drama  and  Spectacle.      169 

acceptance.  The  field  was  all  the  fairer  for  these 
larger  houses  appealing  to  the  broader  public,  from 
the  fact  that  the  leading  literary  theatres  remained 
in  bondage  to  the  theories  of  Voltaire  and  his 
weakening  successors.  Indeed,  as  will  be  shown, 
the  romantic  revival  was  to  be  wrought  rather  in  the 
melodramatic  houses  than  in  the  classic  theatres. 


PORTE   ST.    MARTIN. 


In  1802  the  Porte  St.  Martin,  which  had  not  been 
regularly  occupied  since  the  Op£ra  emigrated  from 
it  eight  years  before,  was  opened  with  a  melodrama 
in  three  acts,  called  "  Pizarro ;  or,  the  Conquest  of 
Peru."  This  drama,  acted  in  Paris,  was  doubtless 
derived  from  the  same  play  of  Kotzebue's  from 


170  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

which  Sheridan  had  taken  the  "  Pizarro  "  in  which 
he  had  written  for  Rolla  the  patriotic  harangue 
against  the  foreign  invader  that  every  visitor  to 
Drury  Lane  Theatre  applied  to  the  French  foemen 
only  across  the  Channel. 

Like  most  of  the  minor  theatres,  the  Porte  St. 
Martin  was  closed  in  1807.  It  was  opened  again 
in  1810.  One  of  the  attractions  it  offered  in  this 
latter  year  was  "  The  Passage  of  Mount  St.  Bern- 
ard "  by  Napoleon  and  his  army,  a  spectacle  which 
the  great  commander  deigned  to  honor  with  his 
presence. 

After  the  Restoration,  the  Porte  St.  Martin  de- 
voted itself  to  melodrama,  enlivening  its  playbill 
with  an  occasional  spectacular  fairy  piece.  Its 
greatest  success  was  with  "  Thirty  Years  ;  or,  a 
Gambler's  Life,"  in  which  Frederick  Lemaitre  and 
Mme.  Dorval  divided  the  triumph.  During  the 
end  of  the  Bourbon  rule  there  was  rebellion  on  foot 
in  literature  as  well  as  in  politics.  There  was  a  stern 
determination  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  the  so-called 
unities. 

In  all  the  furious  fighting  between  the  young 
blood,  which  was  called  Romantic,  and  the  old 
school,  which  called  itself  Classic,  the  Porte  St. 
Martin  bore  its  share ;  and  its  stage  was  the  scene 
of  many  a  pitched  battle.  On  it  were  first  per- 
formed the  "  Marino  Faliero  "  of  Casimir  Delavigne, 
the  "Tour  deNesle"  and  "Antony"  of  Alexandre 


The  Theatres  of  Drama  and  Spectacle.     171 

Dumas  the  elder,  and  the  "  Marie  Tudor "  and 
"  Lucrece  Borgia  "  of  Victor  Hugo.  "  Lucrece 
Borgia,"  curtailed  to  libretto  size,  is  familiar  to  all. 
The  "  Tour  de  Nesle  "  has  been  played  in  every  lan- 
guage in  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  "  'Antony,' " 
said  Dumas,  "  and  my  son  are  my  two  best  works." 

Victor  Hugo  and  Dumas  were  not  alone  ;  they 
were  surrounded  by  a  score  of  young  writers — 
Vacquerie,  Meurice,  Pyat,  Gerard  de  Nerval — who 
copied  the  force  as  well  as  the  faults  of  their  mas- 
ters. They  added  the  skill  of  born  dramatists  to 
the  instinct  of  trained  playwrights.  They  under- 
stood that  the  backbone  of  every  good  drama  should 
be  action ;  that  the  secret  of  theatrical  success,  in 
three  words,  is  action,  action,  action !  Reviving 
the  vogue  of  the  Spanish  dramas  of  cloa'k  and  sword, 
they  touched  the  hearts  of  the  myriad-headed, 
myriad-handed  theatrical  public,  while  they  fitted 
with  parts  and  brought  into  notice  a  host  of  excel- 
lent actors — four  of  whom  deserve  especial  record, 
Frederick  Lemaitre,  Bocage,  Mile.  Georges,  and 
Mme.  Dorval. 

"  When  I  think,"  says  Thackeray  in  that  Paris 
Sketch-Book  which  Mr.  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh 
dedicated  to  his  tailor,  "  over  the  number  of  crimes 
that  I  have  seen  Mademoiselle  Georges  commit, 
I  am  filled  with  wonder  at  her  greatness,  and  the 
greatness  of  the  poets  who  have  conceived  these 
charming  horrors  for  her.  I  have  seen  her  make 


172  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

love  to  and  murder  her  sons  in  the  '  Tour  de  Nesle.' 
I  have  seen  her  poison  a  company  of  no  less 
than  nine  gentlemen,  at  Ferrara,  with  an  affection- 
ate son  in  the  number ;  I  have  seen  her  as  Madame 
de  Brinvilliers  kill  off  numbers  of  respectable  rela- 
tions in  the  first  four  acts  ;  and,  at  the  last,  be  ac- 
tually burned  at  the  stake,  to  which  she  comes 
shuddering,  ghastly,  and  in  a  white  sheet.  Sweet 
excitement  of  tender  sympathies  !  Such  tragedies 
are  not  so  good  as  a  real,  downright  execution, 
but,  in  point  of  interest,  the  next  thing  to  it ;  with 
what  a  number  of  moral  emotions  do  they  fill  the 
breast ;  with  what  a  hatred  for  vice,  and  yet  a  true 
pity  and  respect  for  that  grain  of  virtue  that  is  to 
be  found  in  us  all :  our  bloody,  daughter-loving 
Brinvilliers  ;  our  warm-hearted,  poisonous  Lucrezia 
Borgia  ;  above  all,  what  a  smart  appetite  for  a  cool 
supper  afterwards,  at  the  Cafe  Anglais,  when  the 
horrors  of  the  play  act  as  a  piquant  sauce  to  the 
supper! "' 

Perhaps  the  greatest  of  the  four  great  artists  of 
the  romantic  period  of  the  French  drama,  Frede- 
rick Lemaitre,  long  survived  Bocage,  Mile.  Georges, 
and  Mme.  Dorval.  After  playing  in  "Thirty 
Years;  or,  a  Gambler's  Life,"  with  Mme.  Dorval,  he 
created — and  here  the  use  of  the  French  idiom  is 
exact — "  Robert  Macaire,"  transmuting  the  cheap 
melodrama  into  a  colossal  caricature  almost  Aris- 
tophanic  in  its  grandiose  buffoonery.  Perfected 


The  Theatres  of  Drama  and  Spectacle.      173 

by  the  wit  of  Philipon  and  the  pencil  of  Daumier, 
"  Robert  Macaire  "  has  remained  a  type.  In  1835, 
after  playing  Gennaro  in  "  Lucrece  Borgia,"  and 
Ricliard  Darlington,  Frederick  Lemaitre  visited 
England,  where  he  was  well  received.  It  can 
hardly  be  doubted  that  his  powerful  but  occa- 
sionally vulgar  acting  exerted  a  visible  influence 
upon  Dickens  (then  only  beginning  to  be  known  as 
"  Boz  "),  with  whose  nature  his  had  much  in  com- 
mon. 

Upon  his  return  to  France,  Fred6rick  Lemaitre 
appeared  in  "  Kean,"  a  piece  of  tawdry  bombast,  by 
the  elder  Dumas,  unworthy  of  criticism,  but  effec- 
tively contrived  to  show  off  the  varied  genius  of  the 
actor.  To  Edmund  Kean,  from  whom  the  play 
borrowed  only  its  name,  the  French  critics  fre- 
quently likened  him.  Gautier  called  him  "  the 
only  actor  who  reminds  us  of  Garrick,  Kemble, 
Macready,  and  especially  Kean  " — a  conjunction 
of  names  which  must  appear  absurd  to  any  one 
who  knows  the  unlikeness  to  each  other  of  the 
actors  thus  grouped  together.  Mr.  Lewes  says 
that  to  "  speak  of  Lemaitre  as  a  rival  of  Kean  or 
Rachel  seems  to  me  like  comparing  Eugene  Sue 
with  Victor  Hugo — the  gulf  that  separates  prose 
from  poetry  yawns  between  them."  M.  Hugo 
himself  thought  otherwise ;  in  the  note  appended 
to  "  Ruy  Bias,"  in  which  Lemaitre  acted  the  hero, 
the  author  declares  that  "  for  the  old  he  is  Lekain 


The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

and  Garrick  in  one  ;  for  us  he  has  the  action  of 
Kean  united  to  the  emotion  of  Talma."  He  was 
often  called  "  the  Talma  of  the  boulevards." 

It  is  related  that  at  the  first  reading  of  "  Ruy 
Bias  "  Lemaitre  supposed  that  he  was  to  play,  not 
the  hero,  but  Don  Ce"sar  de  Bazan,  an  incident  which 
perhaps  suggested  to  that  skilful  playwright,  M. 
Dennery,  the  setting  of  Don  Ce"sar  in  a  separate 
play,  of  which  Lemaitre  should 'be  the  protagonist. 
After  this,  his  next  important  part  was  the  Chif- 
fonier of  M.  F£lix  Pyat,  the  socialist  dramatist,  who 
saw  scenes  even  more  bloody  in  real  life  than  he 
had  ever  thought  to  put  on  the  stage.  In  Balzac's 
"  Vautrin,"  his  make-up  to  resemble  Louis  Philippe 
caused  the  suppression  of  the  play.  Mr.  Lewes, 
whose  temperate  opinion  seems  more  just  than  the 
enthusiastic  eulogies  of  the  French,  thought  Frede- 
rick Lemaitre  "  singularly  gifted  "  and  of  "  excep- 
tional genius,"  but  he  detected  in  him  "  something 
offensive  to  good  taste,"  "  a  note  of  vulgarity,  part- 
ly owing  to  his  daring  animal  spirits,  but  mainly 
owing,  I  suspect,  to  an  innate  vulgarity  of  nature." 

The  romantic  revival  spent  itself  at  last,  and  the 
mantle  of  Delavigne  and  Dumas  fell  on  MM.  Den- 
nery, Dumanoir,  and  Dugu£ ;  drama  descended  to 
melodrama ;  heroics  were  succeeded  by  cheap  sen- 
timent ;  the  once  fertile  field  became  a  desert. 
Occasionally  there  appeared  an  oasis,  like  the 
"  Patrie  "  of  M.  Sardou  ;  but  the  broad  plain  re- 


The  Tlieatres  of  Drama  and  Spectacle.      175 

mained  an  arid  waste.  Authors  and  managers 
tried  to  attract  by  heaping  together  horrors — adul- 
tery, rape,  incest,  murder,  and  suicide — all  in  one 
play.  For  a  time  they  succeeded  ;  the  interest  of 
the  jaded  public  was  aroused,  but  the  accumulation 
of  atrocities  has  its  limits,  and,  when  author  and 
manager  had  gone  to  the  end  of  their  tether,  the 
public  again  abandoned  them,  deserting  to  the 
hostile  camp  of  op£ra  bouffe.  For  years  drama 
had  a  hard  struggle  for  existence,  but  to-day,  sa- 
tiated with  the  champagne  of  opera  bouffe,  the 
fickle  affection  of  the  Parisian  play-goers  is  again 
given  to  the  Porte  St.  Martin  and  its  rivals. 

That  the  Parisian  public  should  like  gaudy  shows 
is,  in  part  at  least,  the  fault  of  former  managers  of 
the  Porte  St.  Martin,  the  Gaite,  and  the  other 
houses  legitimately  devoted  to  the  bolder  forms  of 
the  drama,  inasmuch  as  they  had  accustomed  the 
play-goers  of  France  to  spectacular  profusion  in  a 
quick  succession  of  gorgeous  fairy  plays,  rivalling 
one  another  in  emptiness  and  meretricious  glare. 
One  of  these  show-pieces  acted  at  the  Porte  St. 
Martin  was  imported  to  New  York  as  the  "  White 
Fawn."  During  the  run  of  this  play  at  the  time 
of  the  Exhibition  of  1867,  for  a  fortnight  or  so, 
Mademoiselle  Sarah-Bernhardt  acted  the  part  of 
the  princess. 

After  the  war  and  the  two  sieges  of  Paris,  it 
might  be  supposed  that  a  more  worthy  form  of  en- 


176  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

tertainment  would  be  proffered.  But  at  the  Gait6 
there  was  very  soon  seen  a  fairy  piece  called  "  King 
Carrot,"  written  by  M.  Victorien  Sardou,  with  mu- 
sic composed  by  M.  Jacques  Offenbach,  and  pro- 
duced with  the  same  glitter  and  show.  Not  long 
after,  a  patriotic  play  by  M.  Barbier,  on  "  Joan  of 
Arc,"  had  a  memorable  career  at  the  same  theatre, 
for  which,  no  doubt,  it  was  indebted  to  the  noble 
music  contributed  by  M.  Charles  Gounod.  The 
theatre  again  lapsed  into  sensational  shows,  hybrid 
compounds  of  acting  and  singing  and  dancing  and 
personal  exhibition.  The  two  most  notorious  of 
these  spectacles  were  revised  editions  of  M.  Offen- 
bach's "  Orph£e  aux  Enfers"  and  "  G£n6vieve  of 
Brabant." 

The  Porte  St.  Martin  Theatre,  burnt  to  the 
ground  as  the  Communists  gave  up  their  govern- 
ment, was  rebuilt,  and  in  1873  it  reopened  with 
the  "Marie  Tudor"  of  M.  Victor  Hugo.  It  hap- 
pens that  the  first  poets  of  our  time  in  England 
and  in  France  have  chosen  ill-fated  Queen  Mary  as 
the  heroine  of  a  play,  and  nothing  can  well  be  more 
characteristic  of  the  two  nationalities,  than  a  com- 
parison of  the  French  play  with  the  English. 
Both  lyrists,  as  it  happens,  have  no  mean  opinion 
of  themselves.  To  flatter  the  innocent  vanity  of 
the  author  of  "  Marie  Tudor,"  the  managers  of  the 
Porte  St.  Martin  were  guilty  of  a  little  deception. 

The  story  runs — as  to   its  truth   I  will  not  com- 


The  Theatres  of  Drama  and  Spectacle.      177 

mit  myself — that  every  afternoon  when  M.  Victor 
Hugo  left  the  stage  door  of  the  theatre,  after 
the  rehearsal  of  "  Marie  Tudor,"  he  found  half  a 
hundred  of  the  populace  waiting  for  his  coming, 
and  greeting  him  on  his  appearance  with  hearty 
and  prolonged  cheers  and  cries  of  "  Vive  Victor 
Hugo  ! "  To  which  the  poet,  as  in  duty  bound, 
responded  with  a  courtly  bow.  But  M.  Hugo, 
although  vain,  is  not  blind.  The  regularity,  not  to 
say  monotony,  of  this  afternoon  enthusiasm  was 
suspicious,  and  at  last  the  poet  began  to  suspect. 
One  day  the  two  managers  of  the  theatre  walked 
out  with  him  after  the  rehearsal,  and  as  soon  as  the 
group  in  the  street  saw  the  dramatist,  the  regular 
excitement  was  exhibited,  and  the  air  was  rent  as 
usual  with  cheers  and  cries  of  "  Vive  Victor  Hugo  !  " 
The  poet  turned  to  the  senior  manager  and  with  a 
keen  smile  said  quietly : 

"  You  keep  your  supers  in  good  training! " 
The  next  time  M.  Victor  Hugo  left  the  theatre 
there  was  no  fictitious  populace  to  greet  him  with 
manufactured  enthusiasm.  But  in  spite  all  the  skill 
of  the  managers,  the  revival  of  "Marie  Tudor"  did 
not  attract  the  public.  Nor  did  the  ensuing  dramas, 
until,  in  January,  1874,  the  "Two  Orphans"  came 
to  fill  the  theatre  to  repletion,  and  the  treasury  to 
the  satisfaction  of  authors  and  directors. 

With  the  fallowing  piece  the  Porte  St.  Martin 
gave  us  the  first  specimen  of  a  new  kind  of  play. 


178  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

By  dint  of  extravagance  and  stupidity,  the  old  fairy 
plays,  on  the  gayety  and  lightness  of  which  the  for- 
mer managers  had  relied  to  contrast  now  and  then 
with  the  serious  sombreness  of  their  ordinary  dra- 
mas, had  at  last  wholly  worn  themselves  out,  and  lost 
the  favor  of  the  public.  So  a  new  type  of  piece 
came  into  being,  and,  according  to  the  spirit  of  the 
age,  it  was  scientific — at  least  in  its  pretensions. 
M.  Jules  Verne  had  been  writing  pseudo-scientific 
tales  of  adventure  for  a  decade,  and  out  of  one  of 
these  the  unerring  hand  of  M.  Dennery  fashioned 
a  play  in  which  a  continued  dramatic  interest  was 
combined  with  boundless  opportunities  of  spectac- 
ular display. 

"  The  Trip  Around  the  World  in  Eighty  Days  " 
proved,  by  its  long  lease  of  life  on  the  boards  of 
the  Porte  St.  Martin,  that  the  public  were  pleased 
with  plays  of  this  new  kind ;  and  within  the  past 
five  years  half-a-dozen  others  on  the  same  model 
have  been  brought  out.  All  of  these  lack  the 
freshness  of  the  first.  All  of  them,  like  the  first, 
are  more  or  less  geographic.  M.  Belot's  "  Black 
Venus,"  acted  at  the  Chatelet,  was  a  drama  of  Af- 
rican exploration — surely  as  sterile  a  subject  of 
dramatic  treatment  as  one  could  well  discover.  It 
was  the  old  show  piece  over  again,  only,  if  possible, 
a  little  duller.  Troops  of  strange  animals  were 
brought  from  the  menageries  to  tramp  across  the 
stage  night  after  night.  Between  the  acts  a  drop 


The  Theatres  of  Drama  and  Spectacle.      179 

curtain  is  lowered,  on  which  is  painted  a  huge  map 
of  Africa,  with  the  route  of  the  heroes  of  the  piece 
distinctly  marked.  One  might  as  well  go  to  a 
meeting  of  the  Geographical  Society  at  once,  as 
expect  true  dramatic  entertainment  from  any  such 


CHATELET. 


theatrical  slicing  and  serving   up   of  a  traveller's 
itinerary. 

The  present  tendency  of  the  theatres  of  this 
class  is  apparently  toward  military  pieces,  fife  and 
drum  chronicles,  full  of  sound  and  fury,  crammed 
with  patriotism  and  buncombe,  and  signifying 
very  little  indeed.  The  military  piece  is  another 
attempt  to  combine  dramatic  interest  with  specta- 


180  The  Theatres  of  Paris, 

cular  display,  an  attempt  which  a  large  popular 
theatre,  having  to  appeal  to  the  eyes  as  well  as  the 
ears  of  its  customer,  is  always  making,  but  rarely 
with  the  result  expected. 

Since  the  extended  run  of  the  "  Two  Orphans  " 
at  the  Porte  St.  Martin  theatre,  the  latest  play 
which  has  aimed  at  purely  dramatic  effects,  and 
which  has  been  granted  long  life,  is  the  dramatiza- 
tion of  M.  Zola's  naturalistic  novel,  the  "  Assom- 
moir,"  performed  at  the  Ambigu-Comique.  The 
piece  was  acted  nearly  three  hundred  times,  and  its 
first  performance  excited  as  much  attention  as  the 
first  appearance  of  the  striking  and  powerful  story 
from  which  it  was  taken.  Indeed  its  production 
was  a  solemnity  which  has  been  likened  to  the 
bringing  out  of  M.  Victor  Hugo's  "  Hernani,"  half 
a  century  before.  Like  M.  Hugo,  M.  Zola  has  a 
theory  of  dramatic  art  which  he  has  set  forth  in  his 
theatrical  criticisms  in  the  Bien  Public  and  the  Vol- 
taire. They  may  be  roughly  summarized  by  say- 
ing that  he  wants  to  see  the  same  realism  on  the 
stage  which  he  has  already  applied  to  the  novel. 

M.  Zola  had  three  times  put  this  to  the  proof  by 
appearing  as  a  dramatic  author,  and  as  many  times 
failed.  He  did  not  dramatize  his  own  novel ;  this 
was  done  by  two  expert  theatrical  hacks.  M.  Sar- 
cey  in  the  Temps  said  that  the  piece  raised  no  literary 
questions,  and  was  very  easy  to  judge  ;  it  was  simply 
one  of  those  plays  of  which  the  sole  criticism 


The  Theatres  of  Drama  and  Spectacle.      181 

needed  is  to  record  whether  it  pleased  or  bored  the 
public  ;  it  had  no  higher  views.  "  The  name  of  M. 
Zola  and  his  noisily-paraded  pretentions  of  creating 
a  new  theory  of  theatrical  art  ought  not  to  delude 
us.  The  '  Assommoir  '  will  regenerate  nothing; 
it  is  a  play  like  many  we  have  seen,  and  shall  see 
again."  M.  Sarcey  then  pointed  out  that  the  first 
half  of  the  piece  is  light  and  gay,  and  that  the  final 
scenes  are  monotonous  and  wearisome  when  they 
are  not  revolting. 

M.  Zola  not  long  since  published  in  a  single  vol- 
ume the  three  plays  written  by  himself  which  were 
summarily  damned  when  acted,  accompanying  each 
with  a  preface  in  which  he  explains  what  his  in- 
tentions were  in  writing  it,  and  expresses  his  sur- 
prise that  they  were  not  more  readily  recognized. 
In  spite  of  failure,  M.  Zola  is  not  discouraged ; 
he  believes  in  his  theories  and  he  has  faith  in  him- 
self. The  final  paragraph  of  his  preface  to  this  vol- 
ume of  dramas  contains  these  characteristic  words  : 

"  I  publish  my  hissed  plays,  and  I  wait.  They 
are  three  —  the  three  first  soldiers  of  an  army. 
When  there  are  twenty  they  will  make  themselves 
respected.  What  I  wait  for  is  an  evolution  in  our 
dramatic  literature,  a  change  of  the  public  and  of 
the  critics  in  their  attitude  toward  me,  a  clearer 
and  juster  appreciation  of  what  I  am  and  of  what 
I  mean.  They  have  ended  at  last  by  reading  my 
novels;  they  will  end  by  hearing  my  plays." 


CHAPTER   XL 

THE  THEATRES  OF  FARCE  AND   EXTRAVAGANZA. 

THE  houses  of  comic  entertainment  in  Paris  are, 
in  some  respects,  the  most  characteristic  production 
of  French  civilization.  There  are  in  Paris  six  or 
seven  theatres  devoted  to  farce  and  extravaganza, 
to  vaudeville  and  opera  bouffe.  At  first  ope"ra 
bouffe  was  but  little  more  than  an  ambitious  vau- 
deville. Suddenly  it  started  into  luxuriant  life 
under  the  magic  wand  of  Herr  Offenbach.  Begin- 
ning with  the  "  Deux  Aveugles  "  at  the  tiny  Folies- 
Marigny,  in  the  Champs  Elyse"es,  it  gained  the 
Bouffes-Parisiens,  where  the  energetic  composer- 
manager  produced  "  Orphe"e  aux  Enfers,"  in  which 
for  a  few  nights  only  the  notorious  Cora  Pearl  as 
Cupid  exhibited  herself,  her  diamonds,  and  her  in- 
competence. 

Then  it  spread  to  the  Varie'te's,  took  firm  root 
and  blossomed  into  that  brilliant  series  of  satires 
beginning  with  the  "  Belle  H£lene,"  and  including 
the  "  Grand  Duchess  of  Ge"rolstein."  Ungrateful 
opera  bouffe  almost  killed  its  elder  brother  the 
vaudeville,  and  in  1867,  when  at  the  height  of  its 
power,  it  threatened  to  kill  melodrama.  But  the 
managers  of  the  larger  theatres  fought  the  foe 

182 


The  TJieatres  of  Farce  and  Extravaganza.     183 

with  his  own  weapons  ;  it  had  been  drama  against 
vaudeville ;  it  should  be  spectacle  against  op6ra 
bouffe. 

The  war  of  1870  did  wonders.  It  did  not  kill 
op£ra  bouffe.  The  success  of  the  "  Timbale  d'Ar- 
gent,"  and  of  a  few  of  its  followers,  is  too  great  to 
allow  us  to  think  that ;  but  a  demand  was  awakened 
for  something  different.  It  is  perhaps  safer  to  say 
that  the  rage  for  op£ra  bouffe  having  passed  away, 
that  production  resolved  itself  into  its  original  ele- 
ments. Opera  bouffe  was  a  compound  of  comic  op- 
era and  of  comic  drama.  With  the  disappearance  of 
opera  bouffe  comes  the  reappearance  in  great  force 
of  comic  opera  and  of  comic  drama ;  and  a  classi- 
fication of  these  minor  theatres  is  now  possible. 

The  Bouffes-Parisiens  is  almost  the  only  theatre 
which  has  remained  true  to  its  old  love.  It  has  as 
a  competitor  just  now  only  the  Fantaisies.  The 
Renaissance  and  the  Folies- Dramatiques  have 
already  been  described  in  the  chapter  on  the  minor 
music  theatres ;  they  have  developed  op£ra  bouffe 
into  what  is  very  like  the  old  and  early  form  of 
op£ra  comique.  The  Vari6te"s  and  the  Palais  Royal 
have  returned  to  the  comic  drama  of  a  broadly  far- 
cical type,  with  only  occasional  and  subordinate 
music ;  and  the  Athenee  and  Theatre  des  Arts 
follow  their  lead.  A  ninth  and  new  theatre,  the 
Nouveaute's,  opened  in  the  Boulevard  during  the 
Exhibition  of  1878,  does  not  seem  to  have  quite 


1 84  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

determined  on  its  style  yet,  and  wavers  between 
comic  opera  and  comic  drama. 

These  minor  Parisian  theatres  have  one  peculi- 
arity. On  or  about  the  first  of  January  they  often 
produce  apiece  chronicling  and  satirizing  the  events 
of  the  past  year,  and  obviously  called  a  "  review  " 
of  the  year.  Mr.  John  Brougham  endeavored  to 
naturalize  the  review  in  New  York  when  he  opened 
his  pretty  little  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  in  1869,  but 
the  attempt  failed.  A  like  result  seems  to  have 
attended  the  several  attempts  of  Mr.  J.  R.  Planch^, 
and  the  single  attempt  of  Mr.  H.  J.  Byron  to  carry 
the  review  across  the  Channel  to  England.  Novelty 
of  incident  is  necessary  to  cloak  the  similarity  of  plot. 
The  opportunity  the  review  offers  for  "  local  hits  " 
and  personalities  is  too  tempting  to  be  missed;  but 
it  has  been  so  frequently  abused,  that,  like  the 
custom  of  producing  pantomimes  at  Christmas  in 
London,  the  practice  of  preparing  a  New  Year's 
annual  in  Paris  began  slowly  to  die  out  about  a 
decade  ago.  Within  the  past  two  or  three  years 
the  fashion  seems  to  be  coming  a  little  more  into 
favor  again. 

It  was  for  the  late  Charles  James  Mathews  and 
his  wife,  Madame  Vestris,  that  Mr.  Planch^  made 
the  attempt  to  transplant  the  review  ;  and  for  their 
acting  the  dramatist  did  succeed  in  transplanting  a 
great  variety  of  lighter  French  plays.  It  was  per- 
haps in  return  for  these  involuntary  loans  that 


The  Theatres  of  Farce  and  Extravaganza.     185 

Mathews  made  two  appearances  in  Paris.  It  may 
be  remembered  that  Talma  was  always  anxious  to 
go  over  to  London  to  play  Hamlet  in  English,  and 
that  the  late  J.  B.  Booth,  on  one  occasion  at  least, 
acted  Oreste  in  French  with  a  French  company  in 
New  Orleans.  Mathews  went  over  to  Paris  in 
1863  and  acted  at  the  Variety's  in  "  L' Anglais  Ti- 
mide,"  a  French  play  adapted  by  himself  from  the 
English  "Cool  as  a  Cucumber."  His  success  was 
so  great  that  he  returned  two  years  later  to  play 
"  L'Homme  Blase","  the  piece  from  which  the  Eng- 
lish "  Used  Up  "  had  been  taken. 

It  was  at  this  same  Vari£te"s  that  the  best  and 
the  best-known  of  M.  Offenbach's  opera  bouffes 
originally  saw  the  light.  The  "  Belle  Helene,"  the 
"  Grand  Duchess  of  Ge"rolstein,"  the  "  P£richole," 
and  the  "  Brigands  "  are,  musically,  the  most  charm- 
ing of  the  composer's  works,  and  the  librettos,  by 
MM.  Meilhac  and  Halevy,  the  authors  of  "  Frou- 
frou," are  wonderfully  clever.  And  it  is  evidence 
of  the  decadence  into  which  ope"ra  bouffe  has  now 
fallen,  that,  although  the  company  at  this  theatre 
is  headed  by  Mme.  Judic,  an  actress  of  genuine 
comic  power,  who  first  made  her  name  as  a  singer, 
and  by  M.  Dupuis,  the  creator  of  Paris,  and  of 
Fritz,  and  of  Piquillo,  yet  music  plays  only  an 
incidental  part  in  the  pieces  they  act. 

Leaving  on  one  side  the  comic  theatres  which, 
like  the  Varietes,  still  allow  a  little  music,  there 


1 86  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

remain  nearly  half-a-dozen  houses  devoted  to  light 
comedy.  The  style  of  performance  at  these  thea- 
tres may  be  said  to  resemble  somewhat  that  once 
given  here  in  New  York  at  Mitchell's  Olympic.  It 
is  not  unlike  that  presented  for  nearly  a  score  of 
years  at  the  London  Strand  Theatre ;  and  in  so  far 
as  any  theatre  in  this  nation,  still  ruled  by  inherited 
Puritan  prejudices,  can  be  similar  to  a  theatre  in 
sensual  and  sensuous  Paris,  now  as  always  under 
the  reign  rather  of  the  impuritans,  it  may  be  said 
that  the  light  and  cheerful  performances  given  at 
the  Park  Theatre  in  this  city  are  akin  in  type  to 
those  to  be  seen  at  the  Parisian  minor  houses  of 
this  class. 

But  due  allowance  must  be  made  for  the  differ- 
ences of  national  taste.  In  Paris  the  bill  of  fare  is 
far  more  highly  spiced.  In  Paris  there  are  more 
mushrooms  and  more  truffles.  The  public  fre- 
quenting these  little  theatres  demands  simply  to  be 
amused,  and  the  authors  try  to  meet  the  demand. 
Castigat  ridendo  mores  and  Veluti  in  specula  are  mot- 
toes equally  despised.  Amusement  is  the  sole  aim 
of  author  and  actor.  The  plays  are  rarely  long, 
but  they  are  often  broad.  The  dramatist  takes  out 
a  full  poet's  license,  and  his  plays  are  at  times  as 
licentious  as  Ovid  or  Boccaccio.  You  are  sure  to  be 
treated  there  to  all  the  indelicacies  of  the  season. 
Not  only  the  words,  but  sometimes  the  ground- 
plan  of  the  piece  is  not  of  a  nature  to  be  literally 


The  Theatres  of  Farce  and  Extravaganza.     187 

translated  into  polite  English.  The  daughter  can- 
not take  her  mother  to  the  little  theatre  in  the 
Palais-Royal ;  nor  do  you  ever  see  there  young  la- 
'dies  not  married,  either  de  jure  or  de  facto.  Inno- 
cent English  families,  ignorant  of  the  freedom  of 
speech  existing  there,  frequently  quit  the  theatre 
before  the  close  of  the  performance,  horrified. 
More  than  once  have  French  authors,  at  a  loss  to 
raise  a  laugh,  placed  among  the  audience  a  party 
of  actors  caricaturing  the  English,  who  at  a  certain 
point  blushingly  rise  and  leave  the  house,  murmur- 
ing "  Shoking!  shoking  !  " 

The  Palais -Royal  originally  opened  with  four 
decorous  one-act  comedies,  which  were  all  hissed. 
It  then  went  to  the  other  extreme.  Its  plays  were 
the  most  risky,  not  to  say  reckless,  in  Paris.  From 
the  careful  manner  in  which  the  morals  of  French 
girls  are  guarded,  this  theatre  has  all  the  flavor  of 
forbidden  fruit.  It  is  longed  for  in  silence,  and 
ignorance  of  its  real  character  but  increases  the 
thirst  for  knowledge.  It  is  said  that  the  first  favor 
a  young  Parisian  bride  asks  from  her  husband  is  to 
take  her  to  the  Palais-Royal  Theatre.  Of  course, 
after  a  well  brought  up  young  woman  discovers 
by  personal  experience  that  the  plays  sold  in  the 
Palais-Royal  are  no  purer  than  the  jewelry  to  be 
bought  in  the  Palais-Royal,  she  rarely  has  any  de- 
sire to  increase  her  store  of  knowledge. 

In  Fielding's  comedy  "  Pasquin,"  the  dramatist, 


1 88  The  Theatres  of  Paris, 

Trapwit,  describes  a  piece  of  his  composing  thus  : — 
"  For  to  tell  you  the  truth,  sir,  I  have  very  little,  if 
any,  wit  in  this  play  ;  no,  sir,  this  is  a  play  consist- 
ing of  humor,  nature,  and  simplicity  ;  it  is  written, 
sir,  in  the  exact  and  true  spirit  of  Moliere  ;  and  this 
I  will  say  for  it,  that  except  about  a  dozen,  or  a 
score  or  so,  there  is  not  one  impure  joke  in  it." 

Mr.  Trapwifs  play  would  have  suited  the  stage  of 
the  Palais-Royal  exactly.  For  nearly  thirty  years  the 
Palais-Royal  was  one  of  the  most  successful  theatres 
in  Paris.  It  had  a  fine  company  and  it  produced 
clever  pieces.  But  of  late  its  luck  has  turned :  its 
company  seems  to  have  lost  its  hold  on  the  public, 
and  a  constant  succession  of  plays  has  been  brought 
out  only  to  die  a  hasty  death. 

This  change  of  fortune  may  be  traced  to  two 
concurrent  causes.  The  first  is,  that  the  people  of 
Paris  are  tired  of  buffoonery.  The  body  of  the 
French  populace  ask  for  something  stronger,  bet- 
ter, more  wholesome,  leaving  a  cleaner  taste  in  the 
mouth,  than  the  fare  offered  at  the  Palais-Royal. 
The  second  is,  that  to  those  who  yet  like  these 
highly  spiced  meats,  other  theatres  are  proffering 
a  dish  of  still  more  gamey  flavor.  There  is  the 
Athene"e,  for  instance,  situated  in  a  cellar  in  the 
Rue  Scribe,  and  giving  a  performance  even  lower 
morally  than  its  stage  is  actually.  In  short,  the 
Palais-Royal  is  left  between  two  stools:  those  of 
its  old  customers,  who  put  up  with  its  indecencies 


The  Theatres  of  Farce  and  Extravaganza.     189 

for  the  sake  of  its  fun,  will  do  so  no  longer,  but  have 
gone  forth  to  seek  more  innocent  enjoyment  else- 
where ;  and  those  who  were  attracted  to  the  Palais- 
Royal  by  that  very  indecency  can  now  find  more 
attractive  entertainment  at  other  theatres. 

Unless  a  change  occurs  soon  in  the  public  tem- 
per, there  may  pass  out  of  existence  a  theatre 
which  began  its  career  almost  contemporaneously 
with  the  coming  of  the  Second  Empire,  and  which 
was  in  a  measure  the  adequate  reflection  of  the 
manners  and  morals  of  that  epoch.  The  frivolity, 
the  emptiness,  the  buffoonery,  the  scoffing  at  ties 
hitherto  held  sacred,  and  at  opinions  hitherto 
deemed  honorable,  the  corruption,  the  greed,  and 
the  self-seeking  which  characterized  the  eighteen 
years  of  imperial  misrule  must  bear  their  share  of 
the  responsibility  for  the  existence  of  a  theatre  like 
the  Palais-Royal.  And  the  theatre  was  not  with- 
out influence  in  creating  the  state  of  feeling  which 
made  the  Commune  possible,  and  which  leads  one 
of  the  French  poets  of  the  latest  school  to  sum  up 
all  philosophy  in  a  quatrain  that  might  well  be 
written  on  the  walls  of  the  Palais-Royal  theatre  : 

"  Voila  ma  vie,  o  camarade, 

Elle  ne  vaut  pas  un  radis. 

£a  commence  par  une  aubade, 

£a  finit  en  De profundis." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

OTHER   PLACES   OF   AMUSEMENT. 

BESIDES  the  theatres  and  opera-houses  which 
have  been  considered  in  the  foregoing  chapters; 
besides  the  theatres  of  less  importance  which  of 
necessity  have  been  omitted  in  a  scant  enumera- 
tion like  this  ;  and  besides  the  local  suburban  thea- 
tres, of  which  there  is  one  in  nearly  every  one  of  the 
outlying  wards  of  Paris,  there  are  in  the  capital  of 
France  a  great  variety  of  other  places  of  amusement. 

First  of  all,  there  are  no  less  than  four  circuses. 
The  Cirque  Fernando  and  the  Winter  Circus  are 
only  open  in  the  cold  months,  while  during  the 
warmer  weather  the  Summer  Circus,  in  the  Champs 
Elyse'es,  and  the  Hippodrome,  out  toward  the 
Trocadero  hill,  give  nightly  performances.  These 
homes  of  equestrianism  are  not  the  temporary  can- 
vas edifices  which  spring  up  in  the  night,  like  mush- 
rooms, all  over  the  United  States,  during  the  long 
summer  months,  but  solid  and  enduring  buildings, 
either  of  brick  and  marble,  like  the  Summer  and 
Winter  Circuses,  or  of  iron,  like  the  new  Hippo- 
drome. The  Summer  Circus  in  the  Champs  Ely- 
se'es, is  a  fine,  handsome  building,  adorned  with 
equestrian  statues. 

190 


Other  Places  of  Amusement.  191 

One  of  the  earliest  circuses  in  Paris  was  built  in 
1780  by  the  famed  Philip  Astley,  who  founded  the 
celebrated  Astley's  Circus  in  London.  He  was  fol- 
lowed in  time  by  Franconi.  Astley  was  an  English- 
man, Franconi  an  Italian,  and  only  recently  Paris 
was  delighted  by  a  new  American  circus  managed 
by  Mr.  Myers.  In  all  countries  an  acrobat,  like  a 
musician,  has  to  be  a  foreigner  to  be  appreciated. 
In  America  the  gymnasts,  who  are  very  often  half- 
Germans,  pretend  to  be  Italians  or  Spaniards,  and 
the  riders,  especially  those  of  the  fair  sex,  affect 
French  names.  In  France  the  most  popular  acro- 
bats and  riders  are  Americans,  while  clowns  are 
always  English.  The  performances  in  the  ring  of 
any  one  of  the  Parisian  circuses  are  not  better  than 
those  offered  to  us  in  America  by  any  one  of  our 
half-dozen  best  travelling  companies.  Indeed,  they 
do  not  differ  greatly,  for  the  circus  profits  espe- 
cially by  the  present  cosmopolitanism  of  art,  and 
all  really  good  performers  go  frequently  from  one 
country  to  another.  There  is  scarcely  a  first-rate 
acrobat  or  rider,  whatever  his  nationality,  who  has 
not  been  seen  in  the  arena  in  both  Paris  and  New 
York.  The  only  notable  differences  in  the  eques- 
trian performances  in  the  two  cities  are  the  result 
of  the  permanence  of  the  buildings  in  Paris — a  per- 
manence which  allows  greater  display  and  richer 
and  more  elaborate  accessories. 

More  characteristic  of  Parisian  life,  and  far  more 


192  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

frequent  than  the  circuses,  are  the  caf ^-concerts, 
entertainments  akin  to  the  English  "  music-hall," 
and  to  the  American  "  variety  show,"  but  still  differ- 
ing from  either  in  many  respects.  As  in  England 
and  America,  the  performance  consists  of  a  medley 
of  songs  and  recitations,  and  little  farces,  and  some- 
times of  juggling  or  acrobatics.  But  the  French 
caf£-concert  is  rarely  like  a  regular  theatre,  and 
very  seldom  has  it  any  scenery.  It  is,  in  fact,  a 
concert-hall,  with  a  shallow  stage  at  one  end.  At 
the  rear  of  this  stage,  in  a  semicircle,  sits  a  row  of 
fair  vocalists  in  full  evening  toilet,  arranged  much 
like  the  negro  minstrels  of  our  native  land  when  the 
trouble  is  about  to  begin.  These  are  the  stock  com- 
pany, and  from  time  to  time  one  of  them  advances 
to  the  foot-lights  and  sings  a  song,  sentimental  or 
humorous,  or  of  that  more  wearying  variety  known 
as  "  serio-comic."  The  star  singers  do  not  sit  on 
the  platform,  but  emerge  from  the  side-scenes  when 
their  turn  comes,  which  is  always  toward  the  end 
of  the  evening.  The  singers  are  accompanied  by  a 
little  orchestra,  in  the  usual  place  in  front  of  the 
stage.  At  intervals  a  masculine  vocalist  comes  for- 
ward, generally  to  inflict  upon  us  an  excruciating 
comic  song  of  the  kind  which  Mr.  J.  R..  Planch^ 
has  feelingly  called  "  most  music-hall,  most  melan- 
choly." 

Two  or  three  times  during  the  evening  the  ladies 
troop  off,  leaving  the  stage  bare   for  a  little  dra- 


Other  Places  of  Amusement.  193 

matic  piece,  a  farce,  or  vaudeville,  or  operetta. 
This  will,  in  all  probability,  be  followed  by  an  exhi- 
bition of  gymnastics,  or  of  some  sort  of  sensational 
dancing;  after  which  the  fair  vocalists  return  to 
their  seats,  and  the  feast  of  music  is  resumed. 

The  great  peculiarity  of  these  cafe-concerts  is, 
that  the  admission  is  free,  but  the  spectator  must 
give  an  order  to  one  of  the  many  waiters  in  attend- 
ance. You  must  either  eat  or  drink  for  the  good 
of  the  house.  A  cup  of  coffee  or  chocolate,  an 
ice-cream,  or  a  glass  of  beer — that  will  suffice.  Of 
course  the  prices  are  higher  than  at  an  establish- 
ment where  there  is  no  music.  You  can  get 
nothing  for  less  than  a  fixed  sum,  varying  from  a 
half  franc  to  a  franc  and  a  half,  according  to  the 
class  of  seat  you  may  have  chosen.  And  you  must 
"  consume  "  something  ;  for,  as  the  sign  reads,  "  the 
consumption  is  obligatory." 

I  remember  wandering  through  the  Exhibition 
of  1867  with  a  friend  whom  the  world  now  knows 
as  a  poet  who  rhymes  sonnets  to  strange  exotic  sub- 
jects, exhaling  a  peculiar  and  personal  savor.  We 
heard  an  odd  humdrum  thrumming,  which,  as  we 
discovered  at  last,  came  from  an  Algerine  cafe -con- 
cert. Curiosity  took  us  up  a  little  flight  of  circular 
stairs  to  a  dirty  and  dingy  room,  at  the  end  of  which 
sat  three  prehistoric  and  preternaturally  hideous  Al- 
gerian women,  one  of  whom  was  lazily  strumming  on 
some  sort  of  a  stringed  instrument,  while  the  other 
13 


194  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

two  languidly  regarded  us,  the  only  other  occu- 
pants of  the  room  save  the  waiter.  Our  curiosity  in- 
stantly sated,  we  turned  and  went  speedily  down  the 
little  stairs.  But  we  were  not  at  the  foot  before  the 
waiter  at  the  head  called  to  the  boss  below  :  "  These 
gentlemen  have  not  consumed  ! "  And  we  were 
fain  to  pay  tribute,  to  avoid  a  "  consumption  "  of 
more  than  doubtful  cleanliness. 

In  a  little  hall  upstairs  in  a  building  in  the  cen- 
tral line  of  the  Boulevards  is  the  theatre  which 
was  founded  by  the  late  Robert-Houdin,  the  great- 
est of  all  modern  necromancers — if  indeed  he  ever 
had  his  equal  in  ingenuity  and  skill.  Performances 
of  magic  are  given  there  every  night,  and  on  fre- 
quent afternoons  for  the  benefit  of  the  children, 
young  and  old,  who  delight  in  feeding  on  the  mar- 
vellous. The  theatre  is  now  under  the  manage- 
ment of  the  son  of  Robert-Houdin. 

There  are  in  Paris  some  ten  little  marionette 
theatres,  and  they  are  not  the  least  interesting  of 
its  dramatic  amusements.  Five  of  them,  grouped 
together  in  the  Champs  Elys£es,  just  opposite  the 
Palais  de  1'Industrie,  are  familiar  to  every  young 
American  who  has  been  to  Paris.  These  theatres 
are  of  two  kinds.  They  are  either  jeux  de  triangle, 
the  actors  being  true  marionettes,  ingeniously  ar- 
ticulated-and  skilfully  moved  by  wires  from  above ; 
or  they  zxzjeux  de  castollet,  puppets  of  the  familiar 
Punch-and-Judy  type,  animated  from  below  by  the 


Other  Places  of  Amusement.  '  195 

inserted  hand  of  the  performer.  The  first  kind  are 
rarely  seen  in  England  and  America,  while  even  in 
Paris  they  are  less  popular.  The  typical  French 
play  in  which  they  appear  is  the  <;  Temptation  of 
St.  Anthony,"  full  of  peculiar  spectacular  sensa- 
tions. 

The  second  class,  which  we  know  in  America  by 
the  English  name  of  Punch-and-Judy,  requires  an 
outfit  far  less  expensive,  and  indeed  often  portable. 
It  is  seen  to  advantage  in  the  streets  of  German 
and  Italian  provincial  towns,  and,  even  in  Paris, 
the  protagonist  is  provincial :  Guignol  is  a  Lyonnais. 
Among  the  half-score  of  little  puppet-theatres  there 
can  be  no  question  as  to  the  superiority  of  the  Vrai 
Guignol  in  the  Champs  Elysees  handled  by  M. 
Anatole,  a  most  ingenious  and  inventive  spirit,  the 
author  of  his  own  half-extemporaneous  plays,  rarely 
twice  alike  ;  the  MSS.  of  several  of  which,  now 
in  my  possession,  go  far  to  show  that  M.  Anatole, 
like  his  predecessor  as  a  playwright,  the  divine  Wil- 
liams, possesses  a  most  variegated  orthography. 

A  novel  display  of  great  interest  to  all  students 
of  the  stage  was  to  be  seen  at  the  Exhibition  of 
1878.  The  Ministry  of  Public  Instruction,  Religion, 
and  the  Fine  Arts  has  a  general  supervision  of  the 
theatres,  under  the  final  clause  of  its  title.  This 
important  department  of  the  Ministry  would  not 
allow  the  Exhibition  to  pass  without  seizing  the 
opportunity  to  make  itself  better  known  and  to  set 


196  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

forth  as  far  as  possible  the  history  of  the  stage  in 
France.  A  commission,  including  M.  Gamier,  the 
architect,  and  M.  Halanzier,  at  that  time  the  Man- 
ager of  the  Opera,  and  M.  Perrin,  the  manager  of 
the  Comedie-Francaise,  was  appointed ;  the  result 
of  its  labors  was  to  be  seen  in  one  of  the  little  pa- 
vilions adjoining  the  long  central  picture-galleries. 

Since  the  organization  of  the  archives  of  the 
Opera  there  has  been  gradually  forming  there  a 
complete  collection  of  the  maquettes  of  the  scenes 
of  all  operas  produced  there  since  1864.  A  ma- 
quette,  it  maybe  as  well  to  explain,  is  the  miniature 
model,  drawn  to  scale,  which  the  scene  painter  pre- 
pares for  submission  to  the  manager  and  author, 
and  to  guide  him  in  the  execution  of  the  full-sized 
painting.  Selecting  ten  of  the  most  effective  and 
elaborate  of  the  maquettes  in  the  collection  of  the 
Opera,  fourteen  others  were  reconstructed  upon 
the  same  uniform  scale  (three  centimetres  to  the 
metre)  from  engravings,  sketches,  descriptions,  car- 
rying the  history  of  scenic  decoration  back  from 
our  time  to  the  earlier  days  of  the  regular  French 
stage.  We  were  thus  enabled  to  see  the  small 
stage  of  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  where,  about 
1619,  was  produced  the  "  Folie  de  Clidamant,  piece 
de  M.  Hardy,"  the  scenery  for  which  is  copied  from 
a  sketch  in  a  MS.  of  the  National  Library  (a  MS. 
apparently  of  a  stage-manager's  note-book),  wherein 
it  is  accompanied  by  this  description  :  "  There  must 


Other  Places  of  Amusement.  197 

be  in  the  middle  of  the  stage  a  fine  palace,  and  on 
one  side  the  sea,  in  which  appears  a  vessel  rigged 
with  masts,  on  which  a  woman  who  throws  herself 
into  the  sea,  and  on  the  other  side  a  fine  chamber 
which  opens  and  shuts,  where  there  is  a  bed  well 
decked  with  cloths."  From  the  maguctte,  as  from 
this  description,  it  seems  that  the  rigidity  with 
which  the  French  bound  themselves  by  the  false 
rule  of  the  unity  of  place  was  compensated,  to 
some  extent  at  least,  by  the  liberality  with  which 
they  endowed  the  chosen  place  with  all  needed 
qualities. 

Other  of  the  earlier  scenes  were  scarcely  less  cu- 
rious than  this.  From  the  original  sketch  of  the 
artist,  Pizzoli,  a  maquette  was  made  of  the  scene 
of  the  third  act  of  that  "  Psyche,  tragedie-ballet," 
represented  for  the  first  time  in  1671,  and  due  to 
the  collaboration  of  Corneille,  Moliere,  and  Qui- 
nault.  After  this,  documents  and  sketches  being 
wanting,  there  was  an  abrupt  jump  to  the  first 
years  of  this  century,  to  the  I3th  Floreal,  Year 
VIII. ,  when  a  "  Hecube  "  was  produced  at  the 
Opera  with  a  terrific  display  of  the  sack  of  Troy. 
Then  we  came  rapidly  to  scenes  from  the  "  Roi  de 
Lahore,"  the  latest  opera  which  up  to  that  time 
had  been  given  on  the  stage  of  the  Opera. 

But  interesting  as  this  collection  of  maquettes 
was,  it  was  not  as  useful  to  the  student  of  the 
stage  as  two  other  articles  exhibited  with  it.  The 


198  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

regular  drama  of  France  grew  out  of  the  early 
Mysteries  ;  and  in  this  theatric  exhibition  the  ma- 
quettes  of  the  modern  theatre  were  accompanied  by 
a  reproduction,  on  the  same  scale  (three  centimetres 
to  the  metre),  of  the  platform  on  which  was  per- 
formed the  well-known  Mystery  of  Valenciennes, 
three  copies  of  which  are  in  existence,  each  adorned 
with  a  painting  representing  the  elaborate  staging 
and  comprehensive  "  set  "  of  the  scenery.  From 
this  painting  the  model  was  made,  and  nothing  is 
more  curious  than  the  way  in  which  all  the  possible 
places  needed  in  the  course  of  the  Mystery  were 
accumulated  on  one  platform,  from  heaven,  with 
some  of  its  inhabitants,  on  the  left,  to  hell,  with 
several  energetic  devils,  on  the  right ;  while  in  be- 
tween were  Nazareth,  the  Temple,  Jerusalem,  the 
palace  of  the  high-priest,  the  Sea  of  Galilee  with 
a  boat  in  it,  and  the  Golden  Gate. 

Side  by  side  with  this  popular  stage  of  the  mid- 
dle ages  was  the  popular  theatre  of  antiquity.  The 
type  chosen  was  the  colossal  Roman  theatre  of 
Orange,  whose  walls,  though  bare,  are  standing  to 
this  day.  A  model  of  this,  on  the  same  scale  as 
the  maquettes',  was  executed  by  M.  Darvant,  under 
the  direction  of  MM.  Gamier  and  Heuzey.  The 
Orange  Theatre  is  sixty-one  metres  wide,  while  the 
new  Paris  Opera  is  only  sixteen.  The  immensely 
greater  size  of  the  old  theatre  was  shown  by  a 
glance  at  the  surrounding  maqiiettcs,  and  also  by  a 


Other  Places  of  Amusement.  199 

figure  of  an  actor,  made  in  due  proportion  and 
placed,  a  tiny  speck  in  the  proscenium.  Copies  of 
this  model,  protagonist  and  all,  would  be  of  great 
use  in  the  study  of  the  Greek  tragedians  in  our 
American  colleges. 

These  were  the  more  important  objects  in  the 
Theatric  Exposition.  The  walls  were  covered  with 
sketches  of  scenery  and  costumes  drawn  from  the 
archives  of  the  national  theatres.  Some  of  the 
earlier  frames  were  very  amusing  :  No.  27,  "  Opera 
Costumes  of  Time  of  Louis  XV.,"  contained  an 
Afriquain  and  an  Afriquaine,  and  an  Amerigain 
and  an  Amerigaine,  the  men  being  respectively 
black  and  brown,  while  their  fair  consorts  were 
white ;  all  were  adorned  with  abundant  feathers, 
and  there  was  but  little  difference  between  the  Af- 
riquain and  the  Amerigain. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

THE  relations  of  the  newspapers  and  the  theatres 
are,  in  Paris,  close  and  cordial.  There  is  a  certain 
amount  of  jealousy  between  the  journalists  and 
the  dramatists ;  but  it  is  of  slight  importance, 
since  nearly  every  writer  in  Paris  of  any  promi- 
nence has  at  one  time  or  another  written  for  the 
stage.  The  theatres  are  always  hospitable  to  the 
newspapers.  At  the  Theatre  Francais  it  is  said 
that  a  journalist  having  once  acquired  a  right  to  a 
specified  seat  as  the  dramatic  critic  of  a  newspaper, 
is  ever  afterward  entitled  to  claim  it  on  all  first  per- 
formances and  similar  solemnities,  although  his 
connection  with  the  press  may  have  ceased.  Dur- 
ing the  presidency  of  M.  Thiers  a  story  was  even 
told  of  a  seat  which  a  frequenter  of  the  Theatre 
Fran9ais  had  noticed  vacant  several  times  when  he 
had  vainly  sought  accommodation.  At  last  he 
went  to  the  clerk  and  demanded  to  know  the  name 
of  the  critic  who  had  the  right  to  the  wished-for 
seat.  The  functionary  looked  at  his  books  and 
read:  "  Stall  46.  Service  of  the  press.  1824.  Le 
Constitutionnel.  M.  Adolphe  Thiers!" 

200 


Conclusion.  20 1 

In  all  the  old-fashioned  French  newspapers  there 
is  a  weekly  review  of  the  dramatic  doings  of  the  past 
seven  days.  In  the  Monday  morning  number, 
which  generally  comes  out  on  Sunday  evening,  the 
feuillcton,  as  the  daily  instalment  of  the  usual 
novel  is  called,  is  omitted,  and  its  place  on  the 
ground  floor  of  the  newspaper  is  filled  by  a  care- 
fully considered  dramatic  criticism.  In  accordance 
with  the  custom  of  French  journalism,  these  articles 
are  signed  by  the  name  of  the  writer.  To  be  the 
dramatic  critic  of  an  important  paper,  is  held  hon- 
orable. Among  the  well-known  French  authors 
who  are  now  contributing  signed  dramatic  criti- 
cisms every  week  to  the  papers  of  Paris,  are  MM. 
A.  Daudet,  Theodore  de  Banville,  Emile  Zola, 
Jules  Claretie,  Edouard  Fournier,  and  Francisque 
Sarcey. 

Some  of  the  more  fashionable  and  less  instructive 
papers  have  abandoned  the  weekly  dramatic  review, 
and  devote  daily  an  increasing  portion  of  their  space 
to  things  theatrical.  On  the  morning  after  M. 
Offenbach  opened  the  Gait£,  in  September,  1873, 
the  Gaulois  gave  five  columns  to  a  description  of 
the  improvements  in  the  theatre,  and  a  detailed  crit- 
icism of  the  performance  of  the  preceding  evening. 
About  one-sixth  of  the  reading  matter  in  the 
Figaro  concerns  the  stage.  At  the  foot  of  the 
fourth  page  (the  Figaro,  like  all  Parisian  dailies,  has 
the  folio  form)  is  the  programme  for  that  evening 


2O2  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

of  each  of  the  leading  theatres,  with  the  full  cast  of 
characters.  This  is  changed  from  day  to  day,  as 
at  the  Op6ra,  Op6ra  Comique,  and  Theatre  Fran- 
c_ais,  even  the  most  successful  pieces  are  only  per- 
formed two  or  three  times  a  week,  the  other  nights 
being  devoted  to  revivals  or  plays  kept  permanent- 
ly in  the  repertory.  The  Figaro,  imitated  by  its 
immediate  rivals  like  the  Gaulois,  marks  distinctly 
the  difference  between  the  dramatic  critic  and  the 
theatrical  reporter.  M.  Auguste  Vitu,  a  critic  of 
singular  discrimination,  remarks  upon  every  new 
play  within  forty-eight  hours  after  its  production. 
The  Figaro  has  also  a  musical  critic,  who  notices 
all  concerts  and  operas.  Besides  these  two  critics 
there  are  also  two  reporters  controlling  on  alternate 
days  a  column  of  stage  news  and  gossip ;  it  is 
their  duty  to  chronicle  the  latest  gossip  about  au- 
thors or  actors ;  to  give  the  cast  of  forthcoming 
pieces,  and  to  mention  all  arrivals  and  revivals, 
dramatic  and  musical.  There  is  also  a  pseudony- 
mous writer,  le  Monsieur  de  VOrchestre,  who  at- 
tends all  first  nights,  and  publishes  the  next  morn- 
ing a  chatty  description  of  the  occupants  of  the 
boxes,  the  dresses  of  the  ladies,  the  look  of  the 
house,  the  distinguished  people  present,  noting 
any  witty  remarks  made  among  the  audience  (in- 
venting them  if  need  be),  and,  in  a  word,  giving 
in  a  few  graphic  and  piquant  paragraphs  a  lively 
account  of  all  that  took  place  before  the  curtain. 


Conclusion.  203 

The  career  of  a  new  comedy  in  a 'newspaper  is 
something  like  this.  It  is  mentioned  in  the  column 
of  theatrical  gossip  when  it  is  accepted,  when  it  is 
read,  and  when  it  is  rehearsed ;  its  cast  appears  in 
an  advertisement  on  the  fourth  page  of  the  papers 
on  the  day  of  its  production  ;  the  Monsieur  de  FOr- 
chcstre,  or  some  similar  writer,  sketches  the  state  of 
the  house  the  next  morning,  and,  the  day  after,  the 
regular  critic  gives  a  careful  analysis  of  play  and 
players.  And  on  the  Monday  following,  all  the 
heavy  and  respectable  political  sheets  contain  an 
elaborate  and  ably-expressed  account  of  the  new 
piece.  Should  it  be  a  success,  anecdotes  of  it, 
more  or  less  true,  will  occasionally  appear,  indirect- 
ly advertising  the  play. 

It  has  been  suggested  by  an  American  writer 
that  if  William  Shakespeare  had  been  born  in  the 
nineteenth  century,  and  had  lived  in  these  United 
States,  he  would  have  been  the  editor  of  a  newspa- 
per; while  if  he  had  been  an  Englishman  he  would 
have  written  novels.  This  may  be  doubted.  But 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  had  he  been  a  French 
man  of  our  generation  he  would  have  stuck  to  his 
old  trade,  and  made  plays.  In  France  the  dramatic 
is  still  the  foremost  department  of  literature.  In 
England  the  novel  has  claimed  the  attention  of 
certainly  four  of  the  first  literary  intelligences  of 
this  century ;  the  stage  not  one.  In  the  United 
States  we  have  contributed  one,  and  possibly  two 


2O4  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

great  names  to  the  history  of  prose  fiction;  but 
none  to  that  of  dramatic  literature.  In  France  the 
reverse  is  true :  the  French  novelists  are  collectively 
and  individually  inferior  to  the  French  dramatists. 
The  two  foremost  story-tellers,  Victor  Hugo  and 
Alexandre  Dumas,  are  even  more  renowned  as 
playwrights.  There  is  no  contemporary  French 
novelist  to  be  compared  for  a  moment  with  any 
one  of  the  three  fine  writers  now  at  the  head  of 

* 

French  dramatic  literature — M.  Emile  Augier,  M. 
Alexandre  Dumas,  and  M.  Victorien  Sardou. 
Nearly  one-fourth  of  the  illustrious  forty  of  the 
French  Academy  are  dramatists. 

In  fact,  in  France,  to-day,  the  way  to  both  fame 
and  fortune  lies  through  the  stage  door.  A  play 
takes  higher  rank  than  a  novel,  and  brings  in  more 
money.  It  is  no  more  difficult  to  write,  because 
the  theories  of  dramatic  construction  seem  to  be 
possessed  by  a  Frenchman  almost  intuitively,  and 
because  also  the  habit  of  collaboration  makes  it 
possible  for  the  most  inexperienced  writer  to  get 
the  aid  of  technical  assistance.  It  is  nearly  as  easy 
to  dispose  of ;  the  path  of  the  beginner,  of  course, 
is  always  hard,  whatever  the  field  he  seeks  to  till. 
But  in  France  the  market  for  plays  is  large  and 
open.  The  theatres  of  Paris,  fifty  of  them  more 
or  less  when  we  include  the  suburban  houses,  de- 
mand a  constant  supply  of  new  dramas. 

The  French  dramatist  has  now  one  great  advan- 


Conclusion.  205 

tage  over  the  dramatist  of  any  other  country :  he 
has  no  foreign  competition.  Owing  to  the  skill  of 
French  playwrights,  their  work  has  been  exported 
to  every  civilized  capital.  In  Germany  and  in 
England,  the  home  product  of  plays  is  supple- 
mented by  imports  from  France,  and  it  is  fortunate 
for  the  English  or  German  dramatist  if  the  foreign 
article  does  not  form  the  staple  of  consumption. 
In  the  United  States  the  native  dramatist  has  to 
compete  as  best  he  may  with  English  plays  and 
German  plays,  and,  above  all,  with  French  plays. 

Now  the  French  dramatist  knows  nothing  of 
these  drawbacks.  He  has  his  market  to  himself. 
The  Parisian  play-goer  likes  the  fare  offered  to  him 
to  have  been  prepared  especially  for  him  ;  he  de- 
tests warmed-over  dishes.  I  can  recall  only  two 
foreign  plays  acted  at  Paris  during  the  past  year, 
i879,"one  a  German  comic  opera,  and  the  other  an 
Italian  tragic  drama.  The  French  people  have  not 
yet  even  had  a  chance  to  hear  the  ubiquitous  strains 
of  "  H.  M.  S.  Pinafore."  In  spite  of  all  its  cosmo- 
politanism, Paris  shows  no  signs  of  any  weakening 
in  its  affection  for  home-made  plays. 

The  position  of  the  manager  of  an  important 
theatre  in  Paris  is  therefore  very  different  from  that 
of  a  New  York  manager,  who,  whenever  he  cannot 
put  his  hand  at  once  on  an  American  play  of  great 
promise,  has  only  to  pick  and  choose  among  the 
latest  productions  of  the  French,  German,  or  Eng- 


2o6  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

lish  stage.  The  French  manager  has  no  such  re- 
source. He  must  rely  on  his  own  sagacity.  He 
cannot  buy  his  successes  ready  made  for  him.  He 
has  to  judge  for  himself.  He  is  not  unreasonable  ; 
he  does  not  expect  every  new  play  to  succeed — or 
even  every  other  new  one.  Like  a  wise  publisher, 
the  manager  knows  that  there  can  only  be  an  aver- 
age of  success.  Just  as  one  book  pays  cost,  another 
is  a  loss,  and  a  third  brings  in  a  good  round  profit, 
so  one  play  may  be  damned  at  first  sight,  another 
may  furnish  forth  a  respectable  career,  while  the 
third  makes  a  fortune.  If  the  proper  proportion 
of  plays  meet  with  popular  approval,  the  Parisian 
manager  is  satisfied.  Nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty 
original  pieces  are  brought  out  at  the  twenty  lead- 
ing theatres  of  Paris  every  year. 

It  is  evident  that  the  dramatic  authors  of  France 
and  the  managers  of  the  theatres  of  Paris  could  not 
continue  this  enormous  productiveness,  which  in- 
creases from  year  to  year,  if  they  were  not  aided  by 
competent  criticism,  and  sustained  by  a  fine  popu- 
lar taste  in  theatricals.  The  skill  of  the  dramatic 
critics  and  the  honorable  dignity  of  their  office  may 
be  judged  from  what  has  been  said  before  in  this 
chapter.  The  popular  taste  does  not  lag  far  be- 
hind. The  Parisian  play-goer  has  given  up  the 
right  to  applaud,  but  he  retains  the  faculty  of  criti- 
cism, adverse  or  appreciative,  as  the  case  may  be. 
It  seems  almost  as  though  the  French  were  born 


Conclusion.  207 

dramatic  critics.  They  have  the  first  element  of 
criticism — a  strong  love  for  the  subject.  And  they 
have  also  the  second  element — a  willingness  to  ana- 
lyze their  impressions. 

"  In  France,"  said  Sainte-Beuve,  "  the  first  con- 
sideration for  us  is  not  whether  we  are  amused  and 
pleased  by  a  work  of  art  or  mind,  nor  is  it  whether 
we  are  touched  by  it.  What  we  seek  above  all  to 
learn  is,  whether  we  were  right  in  being  amused 
with  it,  and  in  applauding  it,  and  in  being  moved 
by  it."  And  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold,  who  translates 
this  passage,  adds  that,  "  These  are  very  remarka- 
ble words,  and  they  are,  I  believe,  in  the  main, 
quite  true.  A  Frenchman  has,  to  a  considerable 
degree,  what  one  may.  call  a  conscience  in  intellect- 
ual matters ;  he  has  an  active  belief  that  there  is 
a  right  and  a  wrong  in  them,  that  he  is  bound  to 
honor  and  obey  the  right,  that  he  is  disgraced  by 
cleaving  to  the  wrong."  The  conscience  that  all  the 
world  has  in  moral  matters,  the  Frenchman  has  in 
intellectual- — and  especially  in  literary  matters. 
And  it  is  this  trait  in  his  character  which  has 
given  France  in  our  day  the  foremost  dramatic  lit- 
erature of  the  century. 

Some  may  object  that  in  proportion  as  the 
Frenchman  gained  a  conscience  in  intellectual  mat- 
ters, he  lost  in  morals.  Well,  no  doubt,  there  is 
some  excuse  for  the  wide-spread  belief  in  the  im- 
morality of  French  dramatic  literature.  There  are 


2o8  The  Theatres  of  Paris. 

even  those  who  think  of  the  manners  and  morals  of 
the  French  stage,  as  Dr.  Johnson  thought  of  the 
manners  and  morals  of  my  Lord  Chesterfield's  en- 
tertaining letters  to  his  son.  But  this  is  at  best  a 
superficial  view ;  and  it  results  mainly,  although, 
alas,  not  altogether,  from  the  freedom  French  dra- 
matists enjoy  of  treating  any  subject  they  may 
choose,  provided  only  that  their  play  be  well  done. 
"  I  know  no  immoral  plays,"  says  M.  Dumas,  "  I 
only  know  ill-made  plays."  A  French  drama  may 
discuss  a  deep  social  problem  ;  it  is  not  spoon-meat 
for  babes,  and  a  French  theatre  is  no  place  for  a 
young  ladies'  boarding-school. 

It  is  also  partly  owing  to  this  loosing  of  the 
shackles  of  conventionality  that  the  French  drama 
of  to-day  is  as  vigorous  and  virile  as  it  is.  Certainly 
no  student  of  social  science,  no  one  who  seeks  to  spy 
out  the  secret  springs  of  French  character,  can  af- 
ford to  neglect  the  theatres  of  Paris.  Taking  them 
with  the  good  and  the  bad,  all  in  all,  they  are  a 
mirror  of  French  existence.  As  Lord  Lytton  wrote, 
in  the  "  Parisians  " — and  the  words  are  as  true  now 
as  when  written — "  there  is  no  country  in  which  the 
theatre  has  so  great  a  hold  on  the  public  as  in 
France  ;  no  country  in  which  the  successful  dra- 
matist has  so  high  a  fame  ;  no  country,  perhaps, 
in  which  the  state  of  the  stage  so  faithfully  repre- 
sents the  moral  and  intellectual  state  of  the  people." 


-R 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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This  book  j«  |>TTF  ™  *^~  'n°«  date  stamped  below. 

?  r*  g  i  w  r  r 


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MAIN.  LOAN  DESK 


9  1964 


A.M. 


P.I  i. 


7|8|9I10!11|12|1!2!3|4|5 


arm  L9— Series  444 


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